Baroosh Baroosh
by Krin
Summary: [On hold] A story about Seem! Her life from childhood to Jak3, training to be a monk in the Temple. Very detailed, lots of ties into canon. YES I want to finish this fic. Just need new inspiration.
1. Seem

**Finally, a story about Seem! Starts out in the wasteland area and Temple before Damas ruled. So I'm not sure where, technically, it fits in with the series. Between J1 and J2? Oh well. **

**Special thanks to Mandy for giving me the lines from the cut scenes that had Seem in them, and to Yunie for a detail in this chapter. **

**Enjoy!**

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**Welcome to the 2010+ rewrite! I've fixed some errors and increased Seem's age (old readers might remember she was only 6) so that when the fic is done she's the correct age for the games. Thank you for sticking around for all these years! Enjoy!**

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The High Priest dipped a gnarled finger into his tea, blessed it with a few soft words and took a sip. It was bitter ecoroot, so fresh it still smelled faintly of dark eco. A stifled yawn came from the young monk at his feet. The table before him was covered in papers and scrolls. The royal weaver Krag and his seamstress Ulie were outlining the Queen's marriage ceremony wardrobe in detail.

"-intricate pattern on a taupe colored robe, don't you think?"

"No no, not taupe. Taupe is too light. Unless you mean the backstitching. But I was thinking full burgundy for the robe, and an off-white headdress," said Ulie. She pointed to a sketch. "This style has been mentioned in a few Precursor rituals."

"The robe should be more detailed than a simple solid burgundy." Krag sighed. He thought for a moment. "Perhaps the High Priest should wear the traditional garb. The Queen was hoping for a more modern approach for the ceremony, as it's taking place at the New Spargus site."

The High Priest's eyes strayed to the window. Beyond the pitted glass the sand dunes rose and fell. In the distance the sky was darkening.

"All right, we've decided to go with the customary brown and red design. Krag, do you have the samples of those stitching patterns? And we've got to measure him again."

Cloud shadows raced across the rippling sand dunes. Thunder rolled across the vast wasteland.

"The headdress should be thrice knotted, for the sake of simplicity."

The High Priest nodded, not listening. With a shaking hand he motioned to the young monk at his feet. The boy leapt up. "_Kuan sumna_?"

The old man pointed. The boy carefully turned the High Priest's chair towards the window. A vortex of sand rose up beneath the black clouds.

"But I think braided tassels are better than no tassels," continued Ulie. "I've consulted the texts on marriage and the Precursors always had decorative garments on special occasions."

"Looks like a storm, _kuan sumna_," whispered the young monk.

The High Priest took another sip of tea.

"Perhaps we ought to ask the honorable High Priest himself?" suggested Krag.

The royal seamstress and weaver turned.

"High Priest…?" asked Ulie.

"Apologies," said Krag. "But we wished to know your opinion on these-"

The High Priest held up one hand. Krag snapped his mouth shut. He and Ulie gathered around the window.

"It's only a sand storm," said Ulie quietly.

A wave of sand hit the window and a swirling orange cloud obscured their view.

The High Priest spoke, his voice thin and sickly. The words of the ancient language, the only one in which a High Priest was allowed to speak aloud, were lost to the howling of the wind. The young monk nodded.

"What did he say?" Krag asked.

Lightning flashed behind the sand-coated window, a weak brown light.

"The winds foretell the coming of a new servant to Mar," said the boy.

"Oh," said Krag. "Did he say anything about the wedding garments we've been discussing?"

"No."

Ulie glanced at Krag. "Apparently the Queen's wedding is not the main concern of our High Priest this evening," she said. "Let us return when our lesser concern bears more weight on his holiness."

They gathered their papers and left.

"They should not be so insolent," muttered the boy.

"_I have found that as the years pass, the respect for our work declines_," replied the High Priest. "_The time will come again when we are needed._"

The boy nodded.

The High Priest set his tea down on the table and folded his wrinkled hands. "_Soon enough the elders will be replaced. We have been training you young ones, but none have shown the true sumna spark we seek. However, the sands reassure me of this; tonight an important kuan will join us._"

The boy shrugged his shoulders and busied himself straightening the old man's chair. _Why do we have to wait for some new, untrained, unholy kid to come? I've passed my training levels with the highest marks! I've mastered the ancient languages faster than half the skriba did! I've proven myself a million times! I can be the next sumna!_

The High Priest raised his eyebrows. "_Divaka, your thoughts are clearly written on your face. Do not be jealous of the talents of another. Concentrate on your own fates._"

The boy flushed and cleared his throat. "I meant no disrespect, I realize the high honor it is to be your translator for those who seek your council-"

"_Go get the door, Divaka._"

Upon opening the door, Divaka was roughly shoved aside by the _kuan skriba_ Meenoch. He stormed in and bowed quickly. "This is an outrage, _kuan sumna_!"

Divaka scowled and heaved himself off the floor. A tiny figure, wrapped in sandgear, stood in the doorway. Only its eyes were visible between the scarves. A faint hissing sounded as sand trailed down the layers of cloth. Divaka sneered as it piled up around the figure's feet.

"We've had but a two minute warning from the Precursors! How can we be sure this is not a false prophecy?" raged Meenoch.

"_Steady yourself, Meenoch. Your behavior is unfitting of a learned skriba,_" said the High Priest.

Meenoch bowed. "Apologies, _kuan sumna,_ but in all my years of study I have never seen this!"

Divaka folded his arms and looked down at the figure. "So," he said quietly. "Think you're better than the rest of us, do you? Just blown in with the winds and you're going to be the next _sumna_, huh?"

The child said nothing. It stared with red eyes.

"It's _female_!" spat Meenoch.

Divaka stepped back, open mouthed. The figure finally blinked.

The High Priest picked up his teacup and sat back in his chair. "_Bring her forward, Divaka._"

Divaka grabbed the figure's arm. "Well, c'mon. Follow me." She didn't move. Divaka frowned and wiped his sandy hand on his robe. "What's wrong with you? Walk!" The child blinked again and straightened her back.

Divaka glanced over at the _kuan sumna_ and _kuan skriba_. "You're going to make me look like an idiot," he hissed. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her forward. Her eyebrows cinched together and she dug her heels into the floor. Divaka grunted and dragged her over to the table. The corners of Meenoch's mouth twitched at the trail of sand in the carpet.

"You, boy," Meenoch spat. "Remove her scarves. Don't get any more sand on the floor!"

Divaka bowed his head and uncertainly took hold of the trailing edge of one scarf. He unwound it slowly, wincing at each grain of sand that hit the floor. Meenoch's frown deepened.

The girl had sand burns around her eyes. She coughed as the last of the scarves were pulled away.

"_Translate for me, Divaka,_" said the High Priest, and he started questioning.

"How old are you?" Divaka said. He stooped and pushed the sand into a pile with his hands.

The girl coughed.

"This is the High Priest," said Meenoch, his robes whirling as he pointed. "You must answer!"

She straightened her shoulders, sending waves of sand onto Divaka's head. Some stuck to his white face paint, itching terribly. He bit his lower lip and refrained from swearing.

"How old are you?" repeated Divaka.

"Nine," she squeaked. She cleared her throat.

"Who are your parents?" Divaka scooped the sand into her scarf.

The girl remained silent.

"She is insolent!" said Meenoch. The red of his cheeks showed through his whiteface. "Surely this is a hoax! Some refuse from Haven has sent us his starving peasant child!"

"_Who escorted you here_?"

The girl shifted her feet after Divaka translated the question. Finally she said, "I came alone."

Divaka snorted. _No one travels the wasteland alone. Some wandering gypsy probably tossed you off his cart._

"Get the rest of that filth off her," said Meenoch. He rubbed his forehead, smudging the blue lines that symbolized his status.

Divaka sighed inwardly and started brushing at the girl's shoulders and arms. Sand fell freely into the carpet. He groaned sympathetically for whichever _kuan_ would have to clean it. "How does a little girl brave the desert alone?" he translated.

She stood up straighter and tilted her chin towards the ceiling. "It was not so far," she said.

"Your parents live in Spargus, then?"

"Yes."

Meenoch pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll send a lower _kuan_ to the city and inquire. Shall we inform the Queen, _kuan sumna_?"

"_Not yet._"

Divaka smiled. If the matter wasn't important enough to alert the Queen, then it would be smoothed over. The little girl would probably be sent back to her parents as soon as the storm cleared.

She glanced around the room, taking in the high vaulted ceilings and oracle carvings. She undid her hand wrappings and let them fall to the floor.

"_I am curious as to how she made it across the island bridges. They are always taken up during storms. We haven't got any female caretakers at the temple. Send for a maid from Spargus, Meenoch. I want this child cleaned up properly and put in whiteface as soon as possible._"

"_Kuan sumna_! Are you quite sure that is wise?" cried Meenoch.

The High Priest glared at him. "_What is your name, child_?"

Divaka had been so surprised to hear that the girl was to be put in whiteface he had almost missed the question. Meenoch kicked him. He shook himself and repeated it in the common tongue of Spargus.

"Seem," the girl replied.

Meenoch spat. "Not even a name from the Precursor writings! This is an ill tiding." He waved his fingers around his shoulders, a protective prayer.

"_Nonsense, Meenoch. Do not be so afraid of the little girl; the Precursors have guided her to us. We are in their wise hands, and she in ours._"

Meenoch glared at the girl. "Yes _sumna._ I will send for a maid." He bowed and left, slamming the door shut behind him.

The High Priest frowned. "_Meenoch radiates jealousy for the place of a sumna_." He shook his head. "_That concerns me far more than the girl_."

Divaka raised his eyebrows. Everyone knew Meenoch wanted the status of _sumna_. Divaka had never heard the High Priest comment on it before.

Seem glanced at the door. She rubbed her eyes and started untying the heavy storm coverings.

"No!" Divaka pushed her arms firmly at her sides.

"_Bring her to your quarters and let her bathe,_" said the High Priest.

"My quarters!" Divaka bit his tongue as the High Priest frowned. He bowed deeply. "I'm sorry, _kuan sumna_. Of course. My quarters are open to our new… sister."

"_Be kind to her_," warned the High Priest.

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**Perhaps you are more familiar with ecoroot's scientific name, _Mirabilis crassula_? Complex monk-language will be explained in subsequent chapters (though I think some of the terms are kinda obvious) Thanks for reading!**


	2. Baroosh Baroosh

**_M__irabilis crassula_… is the eco-producing plant Thrinaxia grows in mass amounts in her greenhouse ["Studying the Unloved"]. It's found in the wasteland.  
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"Meenoch, Valyder, Baromah, Kastahn, and Forbroir," repeated Divaka, exasperated. He paced around his room. It was dimly lit, like all the interior rooms of the lower temple. The walls were covered in paintings of Mar's journeys. Seem sat on one of the many silk cushions on the floor, pulling the blankets straight. Every morning she made his bed for him.

Meenoch's promise of a maid from Spargus had not yet been fulfilled.

For the past week, Seem had been in Divaka's care alone. After initially cleaning her up and showing her how to put on whiteface, he'd tried to see the _kuan sumna_. The High Priest was too busy with the upcoming royal wedding to talk to a lowly _kuan_ about the newest addition, no matter how mysterious her origins. Or so said Meenoch, who always sent him away before he had the chance to enter the _kuan sumna's _presence.

"Meenoch, Valyder, Baromah…" she trailed off. _Uh oh, I can't remember the last two names._

Seem had revealed herself to be a cheerfully quiet girl after the first night. Her silent grinning unnerved Divaka. Every morning she lovingly painted her face, whitening her forehead first, then her nose, then her cheeks, and finally her chin, just as he did. At mealtime she copied him exactly; eating bread how he ate it, drinking water whenever he did. She found his outgrown robe and shoes and wore them. She followed him everywhere, jumping so that her feet landed in his footsteps.

This prompted jeers and laughs from Divaka's young _kuan_ agemates. They made fun of him and refused to let him join their card games. "Look at Divaka," they said. "He has a girl for a shadow!"

Divaka sighed. "Kastahn and Forbroir," he said.

"Kastahn and Forbroir," whispered Seem. _Kastahn and Forbroir. I won't forget again, Divaka! I promise._

Since prayers were shortened and classes canceled due to the marriage preparations, and he was now totally without friends, Divaka found himself returning to his stuffy room again and again after chores. Finally, for lack of something better to do, he'd started teaching Seem about the _kuan_ and the temple.

"And who are they?" he asked.

"_Kuan skriba,_ learned holy men," she replied, scratching her cheek. She glanced down at her whitened fingers. _He's probably going to yell at me for that._

"Don't mess up your face paint; it makes you look ignorant. What is the duty of a _skriba_?"

She thought for a few minutes. She refused to speak unless she was sure she was correct. If she didn't know an answer, she remained irritatingly quiet, watching him with her big red eyes and smiling.

"To be thoroughly educated on all the teachings of the Precursors," she said at last.

"Right." Divaka ran one hand through his black hair; he hated wearing the traditional monk cap and removed it whenever possible. He seriously doubted Seem understood what she had just said. "What is the difference between a _sumna_ and a _skriba_?"

"There is only one _sumna_, one High Priest. There are five _skriba_, five scholarly monks." Seem sat cross-legged, her back straight.

"Which language is primarily used by the temple?"

"Middle Precursor, gleaned from artifacts found in ancient Haven." Seem said. She was unfamiliar with the word "gleaned," but liked to say it.

"Right. So all our conversation words, like _skriba_ and _sumna_, are considered Middle Precursor. Count to ten in the Jai'nai dialect," said Divaka.

"_Vo, na, kurra, nana, lon, kurrana_…"

"Now in the Mubaksu dialect," interrupted Divaka. Though languages were his strongest point, he'd always found sudden dialect switching difficult.

Seem paused, searched the ceiling, and began, "_vou, naw, comwa, nawtatsi, luuwm_…"

He sighed. She was doing better than he thought she would. "Okay, now the ancient Precursor found in southern Sickle."

She counted on her little fingers. "_Va, no, kumra, nonaa, lahn, kumrano_…." She paused. "The dialects are similar."

"Yeah." Divaka took a piece of bread from the bag he'd sneaked from the kitchens. "They come from the same ancient language."

Seem nodded. She reached for the bread and went to take a bite.

"Do the Grateful Eating prayer," scolded Divaka. He held his right palm over the bread and moved it in a circle.

Seem copied him and concentrated. "_Pir swanshaka gold'ala'mei om cava satsiya. Baroosh baroosh_."

Together they signed the Seal of Mar over the bread and took a bite. Seem tapped one foot nervously on the floor and looked around at the walls. She glanced from him to the bread. Divaka sighed.

"What's your question?"

"How old are you?"

He said 'ten' in all the dialects he'd taught her.

She smiled. _I like having secret languages with you._ "What does _baroosh baroosh_ mean?"

Divaka shrugged. "You say it at the end of every prayer. Or spell." He pushed his chest out. "Valyder said I might start level two spells after the Queen's wedding."

Seem blinked at him. Her foot tapped the floor again.

"Stop that," said Divaka. "It's annoying. If you have a question, ask it."

"What does _baroosh baroosh_ mean in Spargus?"

"Huh? Oh, literally? Something like… 'so let it be.' Sometimes it means 'good luck happening.' Like saying goodbye to your prayer before sending it out. Get it now?"

Seem nodded. "When do I start classes?" She imitated the way he puffed his chest out.

"You'll have to start with all of us in the lowest prayer level. If you really do become a _kuan_, that is. I think you should go back to your parents, whoever they are."

"But aren't I doing well?" She counted backwards for him in ancient Perpetuan.

"Yeah," said Divaka reluctantly, picking at the threads in the rug.

Seem grinned and leaned against the wall. She took one of Divaka's lesson books and traced the ancient hieroglyphs with one finger.

Divaka grabbed another piece of bread, blessed it, and chewed. _Oh Mar and the mighty Precursors entombed in their oracles, would you please give me something fun to do? I don't have any cards of my own. Stupid Seem. Why am I stuck with her? Every time I turn around, she's right there. She even manages to trip me while I wash dishes in the kitchen! And why does she always smile at me? Isn't there some woman in the city missing her daughter?_

Seem hummed, chewing on a strand of short, curly red hair.

Divaka couldn't help the jealousy that seethed in his chest. _It's not fair. The sumna just took her in. No birth rights, no eco tests. I had to endure the Walk of Flames and wait until I was ten, just like everyone else! _He was acutely annoyed at his own envy. "Don't you ever do anything?!"

Seem looked up, startled.

"Look, you're nine! You should be outside rolling in the sand! Are your parents farmers?"

Seem nodded. Her smile wavered. "You want me to roll in the sand?"

"No… well… yes, I guess! You belong in the dirt! You shouldn't be studying. You'll never be a real _kuan_!"

Seem gasped.

"My friends won't talk to me now, because of you." He scowled at her. "Get out of here! I have more important things to do than babysit!"

Seem pushed herself off the cushion. "_Baroosh baroosh_!" She slammed the door.

Divaka frowned. He hadn't thought she'd actually leave. His chest tightened. The warning words of the _sumna_ came back to him.

Seem ran down the dim hallway, arms out, orienting herself. She was two corridors from the staircase that led to the ground level. The rest of the halls were unknown to her; Divaka had never taken her anywhere else. She sniffed and set out in a random direction.

_I thought he was my friend! I did everything he told me to. I did everything like he did…Why would he let me eat with him if I wasn't his friend?_

Once thoroughly lost, she stopped. A fantastic tapestry hung below the last wall torch. Beyond was darkness. In the tapestry, a holy man bowed to a forest oracle, whose eyes flashed a terrible yellow. She recognized some of the letters as those used in the Mubaksu dialect, but didn't know what the words said. Seem counted the trees in the background. When she reached ten, she started again from one in another dialect. Divaka hadn't taught her any numbers past ten.

The thought of his name made her scowl. She stomped into the darkness, feeling along the walls. _Stupid Divaka. I had to leave my sisters at home, and I walked here all alone in the wasteland. I came to see if I could be one of you, but you won't let me talk to your friends! You always walk away from them before I can tell them my name._ The walls grew colder. She turned and looked back at the faint torch. She bit her lower lip. _When I get scared, I'll turn back around. Everything is okay now_. The hallway curved to the right and sank lower. She stumbled ahead blindly, tripping over fallen rocks.

She whimpered. "Mar guide me to safety, _baroosh baroosh._" She patted the walls.

The air grew colder. Seem sniffed and cocked her head. Something smelled familiar. She reached one hand out and felt nothing. The wall had collapsed. She squatted. The rocks on the floor were scarred. The smell was even stronger down here.

"Oh!" She stood as she recognized the smell. "Dark eco!" The floor rumbled. Seem stepped back, flailing for the wall that still stood. Tiny stones jumped around her ankles. The air grew thicker, grittier. It was harder to breathe. She coughed. The rocks flew from the floor; she heard them hitting the walls and the ceiling. She covered her head with her arms.

Purple light shone through the dusty air. Seem peeked between her fingers. _The floor is opening!_ She scrambled back on her heels, backing away as the floor caved in. Blue sparks streaked to the ceiling, pulverizing the flying dirt and rendering the air clear. Dark eco erupted from the hole. It swelled over and oozed up the walls.

Seem's eyes widened. She had never seen this much dark eco in one place. The liquid shimmered a thousand shades of purple. _So pretty…I want to understand you! Be part of you!_ It was the same feeling she had felt the day before she came to the temple, when she was in the city with her mother… She held out a hand, but as the river of eco neared, something inside her head went off. She turned and ran, squinting ahead for the yellow torch.

"Seem! Seem!" Her name bounced off the decaying walls.

Why was the torch moving?

"There you are!" Divaka ran up to her, panting. He had hastily pulled his cap on; black hair poked out from beneath it. "What are you doing in this wing?" He shivered; the torchlight flickered. "How could you be so stupid? I thought I told you never to go down this way! It's dangerous!"

Seem caught her breath, folded her arms and stood with her back to him.

"Why are you always so quiet?" Divaka grabbed her and spun her around. "I'm sorry I was mean, okay? It's just that you're annoying, and I shouldn't have to watch you."

Seem glared at him.

"Okay, that wasn't nice, either." Divaka looked down at his sandals. "The ancient writings say that Mar endured many hardships, as we all do. I guess you're my burden to bear, since Meenoch never got that maid." He sighed. "I have to go to the well now. Are you going to follow me?" Her eyes flashed. "C'mon, say something!"

"I want to be a _kuan_." Seeing the dark eco so close had cemented the idea in her mind.

"Yeah, I know," said Divaka. He glanced up and down the hall. "Let's go to the well, okay? We can talk about it there."

Seem leaned against the wall and pouted.

Divaka felt jumpy. "Okay! I'll let you come to lessons with me when they start up again. I'm sure everyone will be impressed with you." He grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the wall. "Mar! Your fingers are cold! Let's go, okay?"

"Okay," Seem squeezed his hand. "What's wrong?"

"I don't like being in this part of the temple," he said, looking at the darkness from which she had come. "Eco vents open suddenly. You don't want to be near them when that happens. There are Eyes down there, too. And the walls crumble."

"But light eco doesn't hurt anyone," she said, practically flying as Divaka ran back to his own hallway.

"These vents are too pure," he said. They paused at his room while he got their sandcoats. "Only a powerful person can stand in one without being ripped apart. A channeler."

"Is the _sumna_ a channeler?"

"I don't think so."

"Oh." Seem smiled. She looked extremely pleased with herself.

"What?" Divaka bent to help fasten her coat together. He straightened her goggles.

"I'm more powerful than the _sumna_."

"Ha." Divaka tucked her pant legs into her boots. "I wouldn't go around saying that very loudly. See how I did that? There's a loop at the bottom of the sandcoat. Wrap it around the loop of your boots. Otherwise you'll get sand burns where your skin isn't covered."

Seem touched her cheeks. "I know." She bent and did up her coat. Divaka handed her his old gloves. "I don't want to be a burden. I want to be your friend."

Divaka winced inside, thinking of his agemates' reactions. "Sure, we can be friends." _Just don't tell anyone._

Seem smiled under her face scarf. They walked up the stairs, two child-shaped bundles of cloth. The sun glared down as they stepped outside. Seem took a deep breath, feeling much warmer than she had been a few minutes ago. A strong wind blew sand into their faces. Divaka took her hand and they walked to the back of the temple. He pointed to the well and to the irrigation ditches in the ground. Speaking was futile in the wind. Seem copied him as he dumped water into the ditches. Herbs and vegetables rarely grew in the sandy soil, but the _kuan skriba_ insisted they have a garden.

A man wearing all black sandgear came out and watched them. Divaka pushed her to go faster. She panted, sweating under the sun. The wind blew sand into the creases between her goggles and cheeks. Her shoulders ached. She lowered the bucket into the well, waited for it to fill, pulled it up, carried it to the garden, dumped the water out… over and over, until she had to sit. The bucket fell to the ground and almost blew away. Divaka glared at her, but didn't motion for her to continue. The man in black watched for a few more minutes, then waved at Divaka.

He took her by the elbow and pulled her over. Divaka signed to the man. He signed back. Seem watched them and copied Divaka. The boy rolled his eyes and bowed apologetically.

The man turned and they followed him inside. They stood in a small room and removed their sandgear. Once the last boot loop had been undone, Divaka bowed. Seem copied him, smiling.

"Who's that?" she whispered as their foreheads nearly touched the floor.

"The youngest _kuan skriba_, Valyder."

They straightened. Valyder brushed sand from his black hair and rearranged his cap. He was huge. Seem tilted her head up and up to see his face. The blue stripes on his forehead were broader than Meenoch's. Sand ringed his eyes, sticking to the whiteface where the goggle seals had worn thin. "Divaka, is it?" he thundered.

"Yes, _kuan skriba._" Divaka bit the inside of his mouth. _Does he know Seem ran off into the nether hallways? How could he know? Have I been cruel to her?_ He glanced at the little girl. She was counting the silver buttons on Valyder's black robe silently. By her lip movements, Divaka could tell she was counting in Jai'nai.

"The circle of _skriba_ wishes to see the girl," boomed Valyder. The man was unable to speak at a normal volume. "As you have kindly taken her into your quarters, you are invited to attend."

Divaka bowed. He didn't want to go, as most of the _skriba_ were dry, irritable old men. But he did not dare refuse. "It would be an honor."

Seem squeaked. The man's blue eyes twinkled. She followed him out the door, Divaka stumbling after, somewhat shocked. In his two years at the temple, he had never been invited to the circle of _skriba_.

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**To anyone familiar with the term "blessed be," that's kind of what baroosh baroosh means to me. Thanks for reading! **


	3. Sumna alal

"She is an abomination," said Meenoch. "I do not understand why this is still an issue. We have a thousand other important things to do. It is plainly written in every Precursor tome; 'The _kuan_ is a holy _man_. _He_ will devote _his_ life to the glory of Mar. _He_ will keep sacred the words of the Precursors. _He_ will rise and join them in the everlasting embrace of timelessness and infinite essence.' There can be no female _kuan_! No _kuan a-lal_!"

Divaka fidgeted. He and Seem kneeled. The five _skriba_ were seated in a circle around them. Seem quietly turned from one wizened face to the next. They sat in the order of their age; Baromah, Kastahn, Meenoch, Forbroir and Valyder.

"Hear, hear," wheezed Baromah, the oldest _skriba._ His jowls swayed as he shook his head. His skin was sickly yellow beneath the whiteface. He was the only _kuan skriba_ who went without his cap; his fingers were too arthritic to pull it into proper place.

Forbroir sat forward in his chair. "Do not the holy writings also detail the Lost Statue of Kir'ah, that Mar carved in honor of his female companion? She appears again and again in the ancient literature, reminding us of the importance of women. We should hear the child's reason for coming. Her trek across the wasteland in a sand storm is worthy of an audience."

Kastahn and Valyder nodded. Meenoch scowled. "Very well. Tell us why you have come, girl."

Seem cleared her throat. She bowed to each _skriba_ and then faced Valyder, who made her feel the most welcome. "It was the day before I came here," she started.

"When was that? I'm afraid I was busy doing more important things than noting the date," said Meenoch.

_Liar,_ thought Divaka. _You would have never forgotten the day a girl dared come to our temple unescorted._ "It was seven days ago that she came, your highest honors," he said, bowing his head. "Early evening. After the royal seamstress and weaver had taken your measurements."

A wave of muttering sounded around the room. No self-respecting _kuan_ enjoyed the touch of a non-holy.

"Oh yes," said Kastahn. He shifted uncomfortably. "Dreadful pins and needles in our soft places."

Seem glanced at Divaka, who flushed. He motioned for her to continue.

"I was in the city. Spargus, I mean. With my mommy and my baby sister. My other sister was helping daddy pull up the rockbrush. That's a bad weed, you know. So we were selling cactus fruits, when all the sudden a white eco vent exploded!" She threw her hands into the air. Divaka smacked himself in the forehead. Valyder's laugh rumbled throughout the room.

"Preposterous!" said Meenoch. "Dismiss her now. Everyone knows there are no eco vents in the city."

"But there are!" said Seem. Divaka blanched and pulled her back down to a kneeling position. "It shot up right where I was standing-"

"Not even the _kuan sumna _could survive such a blast!" The veins in Meenoch's forehead throbbed beneath the whiteface. "She dares to contradict her elders!"

Baromah wheezed in like-minded astonishment.

"Calm yourself," said Kastahn. "Continue, little one."

"White eco flowed up all around me. My mommy screamed. I flew into the air! I landed on my back. It hurt a lot, but I didn't break any bones. Mommy said Mar had been watching, and he blessed me. She said I had to come to the temple and tell you what happened."

"Why didn't she come with you?" asked Forbroir.

"She needed to help daddy in the fields. The winds were coming and they needed to cover the cacti. So I had to walk here in the storm, all by myself."

"How did you get across the islands?" asked Kastahn. "We have bridges, but they are always taken down before a storm. You are too young to command a dune hopper."

"But the bridges were up," said Seem. "I walked across them. I followed the red-roped bridges, just like mommy told me to. Then I walked up a hill and crossed the bridge at the waterfall, and I came to the temple."

"Were the bridges not taken down before the storm?" asked Baromah, glancing around the circle.

"They were taken down," said Valyder. "I oversaw it myself. Helped the younger _kuan_ so they wouldn't blow away."

Divaka and the elders looked at Seem.

"Mar must have had a hand in this," declared Forbroir.

"Don't be foolish," snapped Meenoch. "Her parents probably extended the bridges."

"Meenoch!" Kastahn snapped his fingers. "Recall the ancient writing; 'do not doubt the miracles of Mar, for he is glorious. By hand he built the cities, and powered them with the eco that flowed through his veins.' Do not be so clouded by your biases!"

Meenoch huffed and sat back in his chair. He could not contradict the words of an older _skriba._

"If the child and her mother saw an eco vent, then Spargus should celebrate. Perhaps the Precursors are blessing the Queen. It is not our place to question the doings of our Creators. Now." Kastahn folded his hands over his knee. "Is there anything else you can tell us, child? Did you feel different after touching the eco? Has anything like that ever happened to you before?"

"I think the light eco kept me from breaking my back. Nothing like that ever happened to me before. But when I was born and my parents took me to the oracle, he said that I would someday be." Seem thought carefully. "_Surmma ku-la a-lel_." She glanced at Divaka, hoping her pronunciation was not too bad. Her parents had told her the story countless times, but did not know the meaning of the words themselves.

The _skriba_ sat back, as if a sandsquall had forced them into their chairs. Divaka let the words wheel around his head; he hadn't heard this particular dialect before, but since the words were close to others that he knew, he thought he understood.

"Impossible," breathed Meenoch finally. "Not possible. _Not_ possible."

"I think we ought to speak to the _kuan sumna_ about this," said Forbroir.

"Definitely," coughed Baromah. "If it is indeed true. I have only heard that dialect once before, many years ago…"

"It's obviously a false prophecy." Meenoch slapped the arm of his chair. "There is no need to involve the _sumna_!"

"I will alert _kuan sumna_ at once," boomed Valyder, and he launched himself from his chair.

"Interesting. Very interesting," said Kastahn, tenting his fingers in deep thought.

The remaining _skriba_ began speaking very fast in a language Divaka had not yet learned. Seem leaned close to him. "What does it mean?" she whispered.

"Well," Divaka said, scratching his head and exposing more hair from under the cap. "I haven't studied that dialect yet-"

"Oh, please guess. I told mommy that if I ever found out, I'd tell her what it meant. She and daddy have been curious since I was born."

Divaka looked uncertainly around the room. "I don't know if I should tell you," he said. "I could be completely wrong."

"Please?"

He sighed. "_Surmma_ is quite close to _sumna_, which you already understand as High Priest. The phrase _ku-la_ means something like 'renewing.' The Middle Precursor word is _kuul'on._ And _a-lel_ defines the _surmma_ as being female. At least, I think so. In Middle Precursor, female is _a-lal_."

Seem squinted. "Renewing female High Priest?"

"Priestess," corrected Divaka.

"I don't understand. What's renewing got to do with it?"

"It means… the first one. A breath of fresh air. An entire overhaul of the old structure. Everything new. A _sumna a-lal_. A High Priestess."

"Impossible, impossible!" Meenoch cried.

The voices of the _skriba_ argued louder and louder.


	4. Binnastina

**Thanks for comments everyone! Enjoy this next chapter!**

Seem frowned. The _skriba_ argued in and out of languages she didn't know. "What're they saying?" she whispered.

Divaka's head spun. "It's crazy. All this stuff about you being a girl and how that's dangerous to all the _kuan_. Meenoch is _really_ mad. But you don't need to know Kug'dar to tell that." He pointed. The _skriba_ was threatening to tear Forbroir's ornamental collar off with his clawing gestures.

"Are holy men allowed to be that mad?"

"I guess." Divaka looked around the circle. "I'm waiting for the spells to fly."

"What's Kug'dar?"

"A really weird offshoot of early Precursor. Some say it's the language of the Metal Heads. Very guttural. It's Meenoch's favorite, I think."

Seem squeaked. "When do I get to learn Kug'dar?"

"I don't know. I wasn't supposed to learn it this early, but since languages are my talent, they let me. I'd sneak into the library and get the books anyway if they didn't." Divaka shut his eyes and tried to concentrate on the words flowing around the room. He didn't often get an opportunity to hear the ancient languages spoken out loud. It was so different from just reading off a dusty scroll.

"How many languages are th-"

The thunderous sounds of Valyder's returning footsteps echoed in the distance. The door burst open. "The _kuan sumna_," he announced, pushing the aged monk forward in a wheeled chair.

Divaka immediately bowed his head. Seem copied his motion, one eye peeking up at the old man.

The _kuan skriba_ fell silent. Each man bowed. Meenoch jutted his head, glaring.

The High Priest spoke, his voice thin and quavering. Seem noticed that his hands shook more than they had a week ago. She waited for Divaka to translate, but he didn't.

"But what of her womanly powers? When she comes of age, won't she tempt our young _kuan_?" said Meenoch. "We can't have such enticement running rampant in our temple!"

The _kuan sumna_ replied, pointing to the circle. A few of the _skriba_ nodded.

"What did he say?" whispered Seem.

Divaka thought for a moment. "'She will bind her hair, as we do. She will cover all but her face and hands. There will be no risk of temptation.'"

"I get to wear a cap, too?"

Meenoch stood. "What of the sacred rites? If she is to be a _kuan_, she must complete each and every one! Can she survive the _Jedicht Hora Quan_? Can a woman endure the three day _Nisstina Kurlu_? I think not!"

The High Priest frowned.

Baromah cleared his throat. "An excellent point. Women are much weaker than men. We cannot put her life in danger."

Seem frowned. "Hey-"

Divaka clapped his hand over her mouth. He shook his head at her.

"The times have changed, Baromah," said Valyder. "Women are allowed to plow the fields-"

"Women have no place with the crops," hissed Meenoch. "They have no place in battle- and women definitely have no place in the temple!"

"We can give her a place! And we should wait, Meenoch," said Forbroir. "Those tasks are not for quite a few years. She will prove what she is capable of."

"And waste the temple's resources raising her?"

"We must at least give her a fair chance!" Kastahn turned to Divaka. "Leave us now. You are to tell no one what has happened here." He spoke very quickly in Jai'nai. Divaka nodded, bowed, snatched Seem's hand, and fled the circle.

"Whoa, whoa!" Seem stumbled down the hallway. "Slow down! What's wrong? What's going to happen to me?"

Divaka stopped at the small room filled with sandgear. He pulled on his coat. "C'mon, get dressed. We're going back outside."

"What did Kastahn say?"

Divaka leaned close. "Kastahn has given me a lot of responsibility. I'm to start training you with small things." He pulled her goggles down.

"Ow." Seem rubbed her cheeks where the plastic had scraped them. "What's the hurry?"

"They were about to really start arguing," said Divaka. He looped his coat into his boots. "You don't understand. No one dares to change the way the temple works. Recently a few of the _skriba_ wanted to bring the people back. Hold ceremonies for everyone. But nothing really changes. Plus, everyone's on edge- the wedding is coming up and I've heard the signs are bad. The workload is going to triple in the next few days so we can get everything ready. The temple needs to be cleansed, Meenoch won't let anyone near his sacred texts, and then all the sudden the Precursors drop a _sumna a_-_lal_ on us. Which-" he waited impatiently as Seem stooped to tuck in the bottom of her robe, "-you cannot tell anyone about. Are you listening to me? It's very important that you don't say anything about what happened."

"I can't get my glove on right."

Divaka sighed. "Just wrap it up in your coat. You won't need gloves." He steered Seem to the door. "Follow me past the wall on the far side of the garden," he said, pulling his scarves around his face.

Seem nodded and pulled a scarf over her mouth. The door flew open and a gust of wind burst into the room. Divaka took her elbow and led her through the garden. They walked sideways so the stinging sand hit their backs. Divaka pushed open a door painted to blend in with the rest of the stone wall. Seem pulled her scarves back as he slammed it shut.

"It's quieter here." Seem looked around. It was a large square plot of sand, surrounded by high walls. A gray shed stood opposite the door.

"This is the practice field." Divaka peeled off his sandgear. "You don't need your coats. The wind never comes in."

Seem wriggled out of her coat. "What're we doing?"

Divaka rubbed his hands together. "One of the very first lessons- Turning the Sand. Or, as we like to say." He grinned and stretched his arms out. "_Binnastina!_"

Seem giggled at his dramatic pose, then gasped. Sand flew up behind him, flashing in the sun. It hovered, an indistinct shape, threatening to engulf his body. Divaka shut his eyes and strained. The sand reared back and looped around itself, spreading into two great wings.

"Wow!" said Seem. The thick loops knotted and flowed through each other. She shielded her eyes and tilted her head back.

Divaka panted. The wings blurred, then fell. He dropped his arms. "Impressive, huh?"

"Yeah!" Seem raised her arms. "Binna… something!"

Divaka laughed. "You're not ready for anything like that. He walked over to her, brushing off his robe. "Plus, you're not _really_ supposed to use the spell for that kind of thing."

"Aww. But you did!"

Divaka smirked and sat. He patted the sand. "C'mon." She plopped down next to him. "First you have to learn the word. _Bin-na-stee-na._ If you don't say it right, it won't work."

"_Binnastina_."

"Right. _Stina_ is the word for sand. _Binna_ is the command. It's a spell, which is different from a prayer. Do you remember why?"

Seem nodded. "Spells are action prayers. Prayers bless. Spells cause things to happen."

"That's right. _Binna_ means something like 'manipulate.' It's a common word, used a lot in the simple spells." He took her hand. "Tilt it like this, so your palm faces the sand. The power you need is in the word itself, but the ability to form the sand comes from you. Say it and concentrate."

Seem nodded. "_Binnastina_." She held her hand for a moment, then turned it over to examine the sand underneath. "It didn't work."

"Of course it didn't. You have to concentrate on what you want to happen. And don't move your hand halfway through! If you were to do that during a more powerful spell, it could backfire and kill you."

"Eep!" Seem snatched her hand away.

"Don't worry. The worst thing you can do with _Binnastina_ is get sand in your eyes. Give me your hand. Palm down. Now, say it again, and concentrate on forming a little mound. You just want to raise a little."

"Okay." Seem took a deep breath. _Just a little mound._ She smoothed out the sand and held her palm above it. "_Binnastina!_"

Nothing happened.

"_Binnastina! Binnastina. Binnastina?_ Divaka, why isn't it working?" Seem glared at the sand.

"Try two hands."

"_Binnastina!_" Seem squinched her eyes shut and grit her teeth. _Work, darn you! Work!_

"Hey, hey. You can't cast a spell if you're constipated."

Seem's eyes snapped open. Divaka was biting back a smile.

"Relax. You don't want to burst a blood vessel. Especially in your face." Divaka scooped up some sand. "See this? It's just little tiny pieces of rock and stone. It took thousands and thousands of years to wear down to sand. Threatening it and being mad at it won't do a thing. You have to imagine putting the sand back together. Making it into a whole again. That's what it wants."

"Really?"

"No. It's just sand. But if you want to manipulate it, you have to understand what it is."

"It's sand," said Seem.

"That's right."

"And sand can't move by itself."

"Yep."

"But…" Seem looked at the high walls around her. "The wind can move it."

"Yep."

"Because it's just little tiny pieces…" Seem wiped her hands on her robe and held them out. "_Binnastina!_"

Divaka lay on his stomach and watched the sand beneath her palms.

"_Binnastina!_"

The shadow of her hand flickered. Divaka squinted.

"_Binnastina!_"

A few grains twitched. Seem shut her eyes and tried not to clench her jaw.

"_Binnastina!_"

The grains lined up and linked together. A thread of sand inched its way toward her palms.

"_Binnastina!_"

The thread was joined by another and another. The tiny plot of sand writhed like the frayed ends of a cloth. Divaka tilted his head.

"_Binnastina!_"

The sand twisted and rose. Divaka sat up.

"_Binna-_oh!" Seem opened her eyes. Her hands rested on top of a tiny mound. "I did it! I did it!"

"Thanks to me you did," said Divaka. He poked the mound. It collapsed.

"But I really did it!" Seem brushed her hands off and wiped her forehead. "That was so much work!"

"It's hard when you first start. Then it gets easy. Then they make you try something new and it gets hard again. How did you do it?"

"I imagined each grain flying up in the air."

Divaka nodded. "That's pretty good. You won't want to do that for higher levels of _Binnastina_ though. After you practice, you'll be able to move bigger chunks of sand."

"When can I make wings?"

"Prolly in a few years."

"Aww… really?"

"Yeah. But only if you practice hard enough. Try again over here."

Seem rolled up the sleeves of her robe and set to work.

**Thanks for reading!**


	5. The Wedding

**This chapter (among many other things) explains the presence of two cities in Spargus- the one Damas lived in and the one where Jak hunted for leapers with Kleiver. I've always thought that the older city was too small for all the Spargus-in-ians and the monarch of the time ordered them all to move to a bigger, better one. **

**If you happen to recognize the name of a very good J&D (among many, many other things) artist, yes, I used it with permission. **

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The week passed by slowly. Every night Seem collapsed on Divaka's floor, exhausted. The temple had to be scoured clean, and that miserable job was given to the lowest-ranking _kuan_. When she wasn't scrubbing stone after stone, Seem was sent scurrying through the halls, delivering reams of parchment, ornamental jewelry, and baskets of dried foods to different _kuan_. She quickly learned the layout of most of the temple.

Now that she was allowed to wear the hair-binding cap, the other _kuan's_ stares dissolved into glances. Wearing only whiteface, she was immediately dismissed as one amongst the lowest-ranking. None realized she was a girl. However, she had no way of telling who was where in the hierarchy. Every day she saw someone reprimanded for not paying proper respect to a _kuan _above him.

_It's like each kuan has his own face pattern. How the heck am I supposed to know who's higher up than who?_

Once, while running to the loading dock, Seem had seen yet another confusing situation. The tall _kuan_ giving out orders and checking off lists had a bright green circle on his forehead, two brown semicircles on his cheeks, and a tan stripe down his chin. He glared down at two shorter _kuan_, both with two brown stripes running from their eyes to their jawbones. One had red stripes between the brown stripes.

"Move faster," said the _kuan_ in charge.

"Pshht," said the younger boy with brown stripes. "I don't see any orange through that green."

"Shut up," said the other young _kuan._ He picked up two baskets.

The older _kuan_ threw down his list and picked the offending young _kuan_ up by the collar. "How dare you!" He shook the boy. The _kuan_ with red stripes fled the room. "I've got at least six years on you! The _Jedicht Hora Quan_ was delayed because of the wedding! _I will not take drisch from you!_"

Seem edged around the two and snatched a few bags of sugar. They had to be taken to the kitchens. She smiled. Divaka worked there, and she wanted to bug him and ask what was going on. She kept meaning to ask him before bedtime, but was always too tired to remember.

After weaving her way through the first floor kitchens, she found the bakery. Baromah held his shaking hands over the ovens, glaring around the room. Two _kuan_ with red circles painted around their eyes turned the coals with sharp sticks. It was terribly hot, but it smelled wonderful. Seem had never seen so much bread in one place before. Rows of rising dough lined the counters.

_If I weren't holding this sugar, I'd poke all those loaves over there. Where is he? Oh._

"Divaka!" She skipped over to her friend. He was bent over a table, flattening dough with a marble rolling pin.

"Hey, Seem." He straightened and wiped his forehead. "Got something for me?"

She piled the bags on the table. "It's sugar. I didn't know sugar was so heavy!" She stretched her arms.

Divaka snorted. "You should feel this." He heaved the rolling pin off the table and put it in her hands. She stumbled forward, almost dropping it. "Careful!" Divaka took it back. "But see how easy you have it?"

Seem rolled her eyes. "I have a question."

Divaka groaned, but Seem saw a faint smile. He was more than willing to take a short break. He leaned back, elbows on the table. "The wise man is ready."

"What does all the face paint mean? Why do some people have stripes and others have circles? How do I know who's in charge of who? When do I get to use color?" She took a breath. "And what are you making?"

"First of all, that was five questions." Divaka wiped his hands on his apron. "Second, the hierarchy here will take a while to explain." He picked up a thin piece of metal that had been curved to form a half moon. Seem took it. One edge was sharp. "Third of all, that's a pastry cutter. I'm making dumplings. Have I ever told you how much I hate making dumplings?"

Seem shook her head. Divaka tended to take every statement she'd say and somehow get back to talking about himself. "But, what about the colors?"

Divaka sighed. "Basically, there's a pattern for each year you're here. It's really for each level you pass, but each level is only supposed to take a year, so… yeah." He shrugged. "Year one or level one, that's us, can only wear whiteface. Once we pass the requirements for this year, we have the _Verdan'lu'Ordnu,_ the Blessing of Achievements. You get your new pattern then."

"Ohhh…"

"You're lucky. You came at a good time. We were just beginning level one lessons and then had to stop for the wedding."

Seem grinned. _I'm glad I didn't miss very much._

"Orange is the most sacred color, but I don't know why. It's a big secret. Only really high-up _kuan_ get to wear it. Brown is for the lower levels. During certain levels you have to do specific tasks, so there are colors for that, too. One before you do the task and one after. Plus, after you start getting skills, you can add your own shapes."

"Eek!"

"But the basic patterns should still be there. If a wandering _skriba_ or _kuan fel dorr_ can't tell what you are, you'd better change it."

"_Kuan fel dorr_?"

"Yeah. 'Monk eleven plus.' That means someone who's been here for more than eleven years. They get to wear orange. They're not _kuan_ students anymore, like us. They're truly _kuan._ It's the level between regular _kuan fel_ and _skriba_."

Seem blinked. _There's so much to know. I hope I don't mess something up and offend someone and get beat up. I wonder what happened to that kuan who made the older one mad._

"The technically correct, really long and boring way to say someone's level is like… well, I'm _kuan ahn ve._ 'Monk level one.' You're supposed to say the level number in Middle Precursor, because '_kuan'_ is in Middle Precursor, but no one really does. You can just say _kuan_ one."

"Thank Mar," said Seem.

Divaka smiled a little. "So, quiz time. What're you?"

"_Kuan_ one!"

"Full title."

"_Kuan ahn ve_!"

"Not quite." Divaka grinned. Seem looked at him, puzzled. He bent and whispered, "_kuan a-lal ahn ve._"

"Oh, shut up!" Seem punched him in the arm.

Divaka laughed. "That gets you every time. Haha. You'd better get going." He nodded in Baromah's direction. "I'll tell you more later, when I won't get yelled at."

"Aww, okay. Bye!"

Since then, Seem had done her best to memorize face patterns and ages. Divaka pointed out basic patterns while they wolfed their breakfast down. Then he waved goodbye and disappeared into the kitchens. Seem was busy with her own chores. Between scrubbing and deliveries, she tore through the storage rooms, trying to find the smallest special occasion robes possible. She had found one set that fit, but they were the wrong colors. Divaka didn't have a spare set for her to borrow, and she was too afraid to ask the other _kuan _if they had extra. She grew increasingly worried as the day of the wedding drew near.

A greater source of annoyance to her, though, was that she had no time to practice her first spell. Divaka wouldn't teach her a new one until she could successfully raise a mound of sand half her height.

The night before the wedding, Seem let her knees give way and she dove into the mass of pillows she had piled up on the floor. "Urgh." She looked at her hands: the old calluses from her home chores were reddened and cracked from days of scrubbing. Seem had never worked with water so much before.

"Open the door!" Divaka's muffled voice came from the hall. Seem groaned, crawled over, and opened it.

Divaka stepped in, a huge bundle of cloth in his arms. Flour was splotched across his face. He glanced around. "Seem? Where are you?" Before she could answer, he dropped the bundle.

"Ow!" Seem crawled out from under it, rubbing the back of her head. "Are there rocks in there? Why'd you do that?"

"You're the one living on the floor." Divaka didn't wait for her response. He grabbed the edge of the bundle and yanked some golden cloth from it. "Praise me now, Seem." She rolled her eyes. "Ta daa!" Divaka shook out a decorative robe with flourish.

Seem's mouth opened. She jumped up and took the robe, holding it to her shoulders. It was the required yellow with flowing layers of ragged black and orange trim. Divaka held out plated black armor with embossed Precursor.

"Don't forget these."

"It's just the right size! Where did you get this?"

"Nicked it from the laundry room," grinned Divaka. He unfolded a rag and revealed two flatcakes. "These, er, just happened to be sitting around the kitchens."

"Thief!" Seem giggled.

"Ah, ah. Was not Mar also a thief? '_And lo, to save the defiled city, Mar often took its transports to complete his many holy tasks._'" Divaka blessed the bread and took a giant bite. "Mmm… it's so much better when _you're_ not the one who had to bake it."

Seem pulled the decorative robes on over her daily wear. She snapped the armor around her shoulders, waist, shins and forearms. Tugging the layers so they showed properly, she spun around. Golden Precursor she could not yet read glittered in the lamplight. "It's perfect!"

"Course it is. I found it." He held out one of the flatbreads. "Eat. That way, if they catch me, you'll take the blame, too."

Seem stuck out her tongue. "I thought you said they've never caught you."

"They haven't. And they never will." Divaka leaned against his bed, stretching his legs. "I'm sick of working in the kitchen. I almost miss lessons." He rubbed his eyes and frowned at the mixture of whiteface and flour on his fingers.

Seem blessed her bread and chomped down. "What will the wedding be like? Who's the queen marrying?"

"Weddings are always full of boring speeches and too many people. The queen is marrying a prince from the Icelands."

"Really? I don't know anything about the Icelands."

Divaka brushed crumbs off his robe. "There's not much to know. It's really cold there. They don't have sand. But they're a good warrior race. They call themselves Marauders. That's why the queen picked him."

"Ooo, I think it will be too hot here for him." Seem shivered. She couldn't imagine a place without sand, or, even weirder, covered in ice.

"Tomorrow's the official first day in the 'new' city, even though people've been living there for years," said Divaka. "The old one's nearly blown away. I heard some of the older _kuan_ say it's only used for growing cacti and leapers, now."

Seem nodded. She vaguely remembered when her family had been ordered to leave the city and go on to the new one. They were one of the last to go.

"Tomorrow morning Meenoch's going over our procession layout. Whenever we have to go to Spargus we line up by rank and age. You'll probably be last."

Seem's eyebrows knitted together. She pulled the armor off. "I don't wanna be last," she said.

"Yeah, well," Divaka finished his bread. "I _guess_ I could break rank and walk in front of you."

"Yay!" Seem pulled the decorative robe off and hung it in Divaka's closet. She yawned and flopped onto her bed of blankets and pillows. "When do we get to do something fun?"

Divaka grinned. He took a pouch from his pocket and pulled out a handful of small white things. "Ever heard of _kuut'kuh_?"

Seem blinked. She took one of the white things. It was splintered, porous, and starting to yellow. "No. What is it?"

"'Hero's bones.' You play with pieces of bone you find in the desert." Divaka emptied his pockets. "I've got twenty-seven pieces. That's more than almost everyone in _kuan_ one." He sorted them into piles by size.

Seem set it down. "Are they really from people?"

"Only Mar knows," Divaka said. "Heroes always ride into the desert to save the world but end up being destroyed. It's a betting game. It's more fun if you have cards, but I don't have any."

"How do you play?"

"You need to find your own bones," Divaka said. Seem frowned. "Okay, you can use some of mine while I teach you. But when you really play, you need your own. You find them when you're doing chores outside. The winds blow them up from the sand. Watch for them in the future, okay?" He handed her five bones. "The largest one is called the _kragta, _the tombstone. Never ever bet your kragta."

Seem nodded, her eyelids drooping.

"Arrange them into piles, like I did. The best pieces are the odd shaped bones and anything that has interesting marks on it. Like this one, here. It's a kneecap with a huge hole in it. I think the person was shot in the knee. That's worth extra points…"

He glanced at Seem. She was asleep, one hand tucked under her cheek. "Ooch, you, gimmie my _kuh_ back." He wrestled the bones from her clenched fist. She muttered and turned. Divaka sighed and threw a blanket over her, then climbed into bed.

**

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"We are." Meenoch's prayer was swept away with the wind. Seem strained to hear him. "We are… guided and most highly blessed of ceremonies…"

Seem panted. The sand shifted beneath her feet and she kept slipping. Though it was dusk, the heavy coats she wore over her ceremony robe were itchy and hot. Her goggles were covered in grime and she prayed none of the whirling sand had stuck to her whiteface. She held her unlit white candle against her chest with both hands and squinted ahead. Divaka's hunched figure was scarcely visible. He turned around occasionally and motioned for her to hurry. Though she couldn't always see him, she felt safer with him near.

The procession slowly wound between the dunes. At the front, shielded within a litter, the _kuan sumna_ was carried by four of the strongest young _kuan_. Behind them came the _skriba_, their long ceremony robes trailing out from beneath their coats. Valyder linked his arms around the two eldest _skriba_ and kept them steady. Meenoch was walking backwards and barking orders at the _kuan _tens. A huge wall of sand moved alongside them all, a panting Forbroir chanting continuously to keep it up. The winds sheared off this wall, which only extended to the _kuan_ fives. Seem stumbled through the sand that flowed from its trailing edge. The temple behind them had long faded away.

After what felt like an eternity, the winds shifted. The lights of Spargus cut through the clouded air. An enormous gate of patchwork metal was covered in tan and silver ribbons. A huge banner sprawled across it, crinkled and unreadable. Seem squeaked, barely able to contain her excitement. The _kuan_ stopped and waited.

"Brush off your clothes," said Divaka. Seem shrugged and wiggled and danced. Sand flowed out between the creases of her coat. Divaka smirked. "_Binnastina._" He waved his candle in a complicated pattern. Ropes of sand sprang off his figure and hovered in the air, braiding around each other.

"Show off." Seem held her scarves up. "_Binnastina!_" They twitched a bit. Seem stuck her tongue out at Divaka.

"What's this? I said line up by height!"

Seem and Divaka jumped. Meenoch stared down at them, "You, boy." He pointed to Divaka. "What are you-" he paused, recognizing Seem. His eyes narrowed. "Get back to your place."

Seem sank into her coats. Divaka's smile vanished. He bowed and disappeared further down the line. The _kuan_ in front of Seem scoffed and folded his arms.

Meenoch glared at Seem. His eyes were so angry, yet something about his mean face was familiar. She tilted her head, resulting in an even deeper frown from the _skriba_.

_That's the face mommy made when daddy brought imported citrus fruits home for us to try!_

Seem's eyes watered. She bit her tongue and desperately tried not to laugh. Meenoch sneered and bent down, sticking his contorted face in hers.

"Ptah! Ah hahahaha!" Seem spat everywhere. Every _kuan_ one whipped around and stared. Divaka's eyes nearly popped out.

"You foul girl!" Meenoch roared, wiping his face. He reared back and cursed in a language she didn't know. Divaka motioned for her to bow excessively and pray for forgiveness. She couldn't; Meenoch's bared teeth and smeared whiteface was too much for her. She smacked her hands over her mouth, almost stuck the candle up her nose, and giggled madly. Meenoch hissed and put two fingers over her forehead.

"Meenoch!" Forbroir jogged to the end of the procession. Meenoch snatched his hand away from Seem.

"What?"

"For Mar's sake, fix your whiteface. We've already entered the gate atrium." Forbroir watched the other _skriba_ carefully. Meenoch shot Seem a murderous glare and marched away. Forbroir winked at her and cleared his throat. "_Kuan_ ones, remove your coats in the atrium." He turned and motioned for the rest of the line to hurry.

The _kuan_ in front of her turned around. "Nice one, Spitface."

"Don't call me that!" Seem pulled her goggles off.

"Are you really a girl?"

_Humph._ "Maybe. Does it matter?"

The _kuan_ raised an eyebrow.

"Hurry up! The gate's going to shut." Seem pushed past him and ran through. The winds died. She tore her coat off, rolled it into a ball, and threw it on the floor.

"Hey!" Divaka appeared next to her. Black strands of hair stuck out from beneath his cap. "That's mine. At least put it on top of someone else's coat." Seem giggled and nudged the ball with her foot. Divaka pointed around the huge room. "Look at all those vehicles. I always wanted to be a wastelander."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Divaka rubbed the armor on his left forearm. "Spargus's known for its tough people, right? No one cares about the _kuan_ anymore."

"Maybe you could run away," said Seem. She pulled at her robe. "Try to get into Haven. I've heard they have races there with machines, not leapers. You could drive a zoomer!"

Divaka shot her a look. "No one gets back into Haven. It's not so great anyway."

"What do you mean? Mommy said they have _tons_ of water there."

"Your armor's crooked," said Divaka. He pulled her shin guards up.

"Did you used to live there?"

"Be quiet." Divaka stood and brushed his hands together. "After the ceremony we'll have a feast. I'll see you then." He turned and elbowed his way back to his place.

The _kuan_ lined up once again. Valyder and the other _skriba_ had adorned horned black headdresses studded with white eco crystals. Their long, embroidered scarves flowed out behind them in brilliant shades of orange. Another group of _kuan_, the _kuan fel dorr_, she guessed, wore yellow robes with a golden scarf wrapped around their waists.

The second gate rumbled and twisted open. Seem held her breath as she stepped back into the city of her birth. The curved buildings were lit up with hundreds of torches, and a few were strung with silver and tan ribbons. Citizens of Spargus walked in small bunches, talking about the feast. The women carried their guns as well as their husbands'. The men wore ammo magazines and cartridges across their chests. According to custom, no one but the royal couple-to-be was allowed to have loaded weapons. Everyone wore the best tan clothing they owned. A few even sported straps of expensive yakkow leather around their waists and boots. Children of the more successful wastelanders carried baskets of Metal Head skull gems.

Seem waved to a few of her sister's friends, but they didn't recognize her. They grinned and bowed. One pretended to be eaten by a Metal Head while the other mimed praying. Seem rolled her eyes.

The _kuan_ filtered into the arena. Seem had been here a few times before to watch outsiders try to earn their citizenship. She had never imagined being on the floor. She clutched the sides of her robes; most of the metal plates were in place, but lava leaked through. She hopped across the cracks and looked up at the staggered seating.

The guests and armies from the Icelands sat on one side. Their ears were smaller and most of them had purple eyes. Quite a few were struggling to undo the complicated ties on their silver formal wear. Fur coats and leggings had been abandoned to the aisles. Their voices were smoother than what she was used to hearing. _No sand to choke them, I guess._ They complained about the heat with a strange accent.

On the other side, the citizens of Spargus sat comfortably. Children rode up and down the elevators, bringing skull gems to the arena floor and placing them in a huge pile across from the _kuan_. Seem thought she saw her family towards the top, but didn't dare wave.

In front of the pile, the royal couple sat in golden thrones. The prince was a huge man, his face flushed. Five servants fanned him, yet sweat darkened his silver tunic. Every few minutes he heaved a great sigh and shifted uncomfortably. The queen hunched in her throne, eyes almost closed, one hand under her chin. A royal attendant fussed with her tan and yakkow hide gown: pulling one layer this way, another that way, draping the fringed scarf across her shoulders just so. Her golden orange armor and crown clashed with her green hair and white eco crystal jewelry. With an annoyed grunt she waved the attendant away and picked at a spike on her wrist guard. Her giant Peacemaker lay across her lap, dwarfing the hunting rifle the prince had.

Seem glanced around and saw that the _kuan_ were moving again. She hopped over to her new spot and stood facing the queen. The _skriba_ surrounded the _kuan sumna_ in a tight circle. The other _kuan_ were holding their candles in their right hands. Seem swapped hers to the correct side.

An official from each land mass stood. The one in tan spoke first. "We gather here on this auspicious day, not only to celebrate the opening of a rejuvenated Spargus, but to wed her Queen to an ally of considerable power."

Seem tried listening for a while, but the two men used words she didn't know the meanings of. They talked about the commerce of both nations, the trade routes they used, and how much income the merchants brought in. Seem yawned, glanced around guiltily, and caught the queen doing the same.

"Queen Simia and Prince Forwyk, please rise."

Seem waited impatiently as the couple rose, kneeled, sat, rose, kneeled, rose, and sat. She tried her hardest to keep still. She quietly tapped one foot, hoping the ceremony would end soon.

Finally, Baromah hobbled to the thrones and bowed. "In the Chronicles of Mar's companion Dax, we often see marriage and battle as the halves of one struggle. Two opposing forces clash, drench the sandbeds with their life fluids, and reconcile. In his early journeys, Mar discovered the essence of a battle with the unseen. _'To illuminate the path to victory, we use the bodies of our enemies.'_ He traded skull gems to the mighty Oracles. _'In the light of the Precursors Mar bathed; unto him was bestowed the power to control his inner darkness.'_ In this same way, we implore the Precursors to grant our royalty clenched fists in marriage. May they rule in times of great triumph. To appease the Oracles and the Precursors entombed within, we sacrifice our skull gems."

The half of the arena from the Icelands groaned.

A dozen royal attendants poured dirt over the shining pile. The _skriba_ each bowed in prayer and spoke in a different language. A ring of flames exploded at the edge of the pile. It flared and forked, eating its way through the skull gems. Heat rolled off in waves, saturating the air with a metallic scent. The soundless fire flashed. Seem liked how the green light illuminated the Icelanders' wide eyes. They were whispering to each other, pointing at the flames. The prince edged away from it in his seat.

The _kuan_ approached one by one, lighting their candles. Seem held her breath and stretched her arm out as far as possible. The wick caught fire easily. She held the candle up and bowed.

The _kuan sumna_ raised his hands and spoke. Valyder's booming translation echoed throughout the arena. "To our new brothers and sisters, we open our home. The Precursors are smiling, for Spargus is no longer the single beacon of the desert…"

The _kuan sumna_'s speech was endless. Seem's arm ached. She struggled to hold the candle up. She glanced at Divaka. His free hand twitched ever so slightly. The pebbles and bits of hardened lava at his feet danced. Occasionally, one was sent at considerable velocity towards the leg of a neighboring _kuan_. Divaka grinned.

"…from the sand's scalding embrace to the ice's frigid kiss." The _kuan sumna_ bowed his head. Valyder and the _skriba_ walked around the fire, blessing it. Once it had been circled three times, Baromah extended one hand to the queen.

"May the Precursors stand guard over your city, your life, and your womb, from whence our next king shall arise."

The queen regarded him with unamused eyes. Each _skriba_ took her hand and repeated the blessing. Then they retreated behind the _kuan fel_, who began chanting. Seem copied the other _kuan_ as they spun and wove around each other in circles. She didn't know the words, but hummed along. As she passed Divaka, he wiggled his ears at her. The chanting grew louder and louder. Audience members who knew the prayer joined along.

Then the elevators shuddered to life. Half the arena cheered as Spargus musicians descended to the floor. Two dozen of these, the swishers, shook their baskets filled with sand. The walls of the baskets were layered and woven differently; each had its own pitch. Some were almost as tall as the men who played them. The drummers and swishers arranged their instruments in concentric circles. They started with a traditional Desert Breeze song. The _kuan_ slowed, tossed their candles into the fire, and gathered around the throne.

As the song ended, the Spargus citizens stomped and shouted for Rolling Thunder. The musicians glanced at the queen.

"For Mar's sake, play something with a beat," she snapped. "This has been the dullest day of my life."

The prince nodded. The lead musician shrugged. A few of the older ones frowned, but assented. The drummers pounded their instruments for all they were worth, grinning like mad. Seem shut her eyes and imagined sand storms racing across the dunes, uncovering huge Precursor buildings.

Not to be outdone, the Icelandic orchestra assembled across from them. They played instruments Seem had never seen before; high-pitched metal strings stretched across carved wooden boxes, huge horns and a beautiful stringed instrument a woman lay across her lap and danced her fingertips over.

The music twisted and shone, vibrant sounds Seem had never heard before. The Icelandic women stood and sang from their seats. For the first time, the prince smiled. The queen grinned, seized her Peacemaker, and fired into the air. At that, the citizens of Spargus streamed down the aisles and jumped to the arena floor. Spinning, guns and all, they shrieked and laughed. Shakers abandoned their positions and wandered through the dancing crowd, shaking their baskets at the pretty girls.

Once the floor plates had been fully extended, the Icelanders joined the dance. Their steps were faster than the whirling glides of their new comrades. Servants set up tables of food along the periphery. Seem's mouth watered. _Breads and meat and cactus pie!_ She looked around the circle of _kuan._ Divaka was staring at the tables, eyes glazed over. _When do we get to dance and eat?_

Minutes passed. Seem shifted from one foot to the other, her stomach growling. _Why isn't anyone getting food?_ The _skriba_ all stood, calmly watching the chaos on the floor. _This stinks! We walked all the way here and don't get to dance?_ Very slowly, she edged around the _kuan_.

_I'm small. They won't miss me._

Seem ran out and joined the mix, dancing and avoiding firearms. The _skriba_ stared in shock. Divaka laughed, shrugged, and sprinted after her.

"Get back in your place!" screamed Meenoch.

A few of the young _kuan_ hesitated, then jumped in. The older _kuan_ looked at their leaders with questioning eyes. Forbroir smiled and waved. The _kuan_ flooded the arena floor.

Seem shoved pastries into her mouth and whirled over to the Icelands orchestra. Around the edge of the arena, the male mauraders and wastelanders engaged in false battle. Guns were wielded like clubs; an occasional blow could be heard above the din when one found its mark.

"What's that?" Seem screamed. The Icelandic woman playing the instrument bowed her head.

"Hello, young monk," she screamed back. The musicians behind her laughed. She took Seem's hand. "This is a _tsuethyr_. Play like this." The woman raked Seem's fingers across the strings.

"Neat!" Crumbs flew everywhere as Seem plucked the strings. The woman brushed some off her silver blouse. Out of the corner of her eye, Seem saw Divaka struggling between two huge wastelanders. "Thank you!" She bowed and turned.

"C'mon!" shouted Divaka. He grabbed her arm.

"What's wrong? Are we leaving?"

"No! They're running out of food!"

Seem laughed and they pressed through the crowd.


	6. Lessons

**Thanks to all who have reviewed, I appreciate it! Enjoy the next chapter.**

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Sunlight streamed through the tapestries. Seem groaned and opened one eye. Divaka's arm hung over the side of his bed. She squinted and sat up, rubbing her face. The beaded fringe of her blanket left imprints on her cheeks. "Mwuh?" She barely remembered the ride back to the Temple the night before; sweaty wastelanders had packed the small _kuan_ into a desert vehicle and driven the monks back after the ceremony.

_Hey, I still have my boots on. Oops, sand all over._ She stood and shook out the blankets, yawning. _Today's the first day of lessons!_

"Divaka, wake up!" Seem smacked his face with a pillow. "C'mon c'mon c'mon!"

"Argh!" Divaka swatted at her. She dodged and laughed. "My eye!"

"First day of lessons!" Seem danced around. "I can't wait!"

Divaka groaned and turned over.

"Metal head." Seem stuck her tongue out at him. She changed into a clean robe and smoothed on whiteface. "We're going to be late." She tugged her cap on over her hair. Divaka muttered. Fingers still stained with white pigment, Seem poked Divaka's face. He winced. "C'mon!"

Grumbling, eyes shut, Divaka climbed out of bed and stumbled over to the closet. He wrapped a scarf around his head. Seem giggled and handed him the container of whiteface. He smeared some across his right cheek and dropped the rest.

"Uh…" Seem gestured. "I think you forgot-"

Divaka walked past her, still muttering, and out the door.

"Okay." Seem shrugged, straightened her robes, grinned, and skipped out. Divaka weaved through the hallway, heading in the general direction of the great hall. "Wait up!" He paused, turned, and opened his eyes halfway.

"Buh?" His hair stuck out from beneath his unwinding scarf and fingerprints tracked across his face. Seem laughed. "Wha'so funny?"

"Divaka is often slow in the mornings."

Seem jumped and turned. Kastahn smiled, shaking his head. She bowed.

"As fashionable as it is, you ought to go back to your room and rethink your current attire," Kastahn said. Divaka blinked, bowed, and left.

"Now, then." The _skriba_ bent and looked Seem in the eyes. "Young _kuan a-lal,_" he said. "Listen carefully. These are your very first words of instruction." He put a fist over his chest. "Keep them close to your heart."

Seem nodded.

"The Precursors died out long ago. They left behind their many artifacts, from which we are to gain knowledge. They left behind many Oracles, from whom we gain wisdom. The Precursors come in many forms. It is our duty as _kuan_ to keep the Precursors holy. Honor them and all the things they have given to us. If you learn but one thing in all your time at this temple, be it to keep the Precursors sacred."

Seem nodded.

Kastahn straightened. "You're probably wondering where your breakfast is. Follow the _kuan_ ones." He pointed down the corridor.

She bowed her head and hurried to the great hall. The _kuan_ clustered by age group around tables, talking quietly. Seem approached the _kuan_ one table and sat at the end. The four _kuan_ ones turned and looked at her.

"Spitface!" A boy said. He crossed his eyes, dipped his fingers in his cup, and sprayed his neighbor with water.

"Don't call me that!" Seem glared at him.

"Spitface! Spitface!" The _kuan_ laughed and shoved each other.

"My name is Seem!"

The boy grinned. "Fancy peasant name, isn't it?" He stood and bowed. "I'm Slip, that's Geumn, Lucky Dim, and Toops." The _kuan_ made faces as they were named. "We were quite impressed when you stood up to Meenoch, Spitface. So impressed, we had a little meeting last night after the wedding ceremony. You can sit and play _kuut'kuh_ with us."

"Really?"

"Yeah. We have tournaments, and the older _kuan_ show us tricks outside of lessons. We have the best bones this side of the great hall."

"Oh, neat!" Seem smiled.

"Yeah." Slip put his arm around Seem's shoulder. "There's only one thing you have to do."

"What?"

"Stop talking to that tyro, Divaka." Slip grinned.

"What?" Seem frowned and pushed the boy away. "But, he's my friend. He's not a tyro."

"Ha!" Slip looked back at the others. They burst into laughter.

"What _is_ a tyro?" asked Seem.

Slip snorted. "If you don't know, you are one. Divaka thinks he's better than everyone else, even when he fails half his tasks. He hides behind the words of Mar."

"What do you mean?"

"He used to be in our group, but we got tired of hearing him talk too much. So." Slip took a piece of bread and broke it in half. "We had to let him go. Your choice now, Spitface. Join us, or spend the next ten years on your own, without allies."

Seem frowned. "Divaka is smarter than all of you." Slip snorted. "So you're prolly just jealous." Seem stomped over to the food table and piled her plate with breads. _Why are they so mean? Aren't monks supposed to be holy and nice?_

Divaka joined her a while later, cap straight and whiteface smooth. "I probably shouldn't have drunk the stuff the marauders gave me." He rubbed his forehead. "I feel stupid. Fuzzy." He stretched and sat down. "Give me some of that."

Seem handed him a slice of bread. The other _kuan_ ones turned away from them. Slip mouthed _Spitface!_ She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Divaka, what's a tyro?"

Between cramming bread in his mouth, he answered. "A beginner. Someone who doesn't know what he's doing."

"Oh." She chewed her bread. It was gritty. She wondered how sand got in it; she knew the monks in the kitchens were very careful with the batter. "What's our first lesson?"

"Every other morning we have a lesson on Greeting the Dawn, _Shaktna Nai._ Forbrior instructs it. He teaches most of the ceremonies." Divaka pointed to Seem's cup. She handed it to him. He took a big gulp of water. "The _skriba_ teach in their areas of expertise. Except Baromah- he's too old to teach now."

"How old is he? A million? We should ask him what the Precursors were like." Seem giggled.

Divaka shot her a half smile and rose. He sneaked over to the food table and slipped bread into his pockets. "C'mon. Nothing to see here."

Seem followed him to the coatroom. Slip and the other _kuan_ ones weren't far behind. The walls were covered with hooks, each bearing a set of coats, scarves, boots, goggles, gloves… Seem wiggled into the sandgear and snapped goggles on.

"We're going to the south side of the temple." Divaka glanced at her. "You forgot to tuck your coat around your boots."

"Oh, oops." Seem bent and pulled the loops together, wobbling. She leaned against Divaka. The sand crunched underfoot, grinding against the stones.

"You won't need scarves. We'll be shielded by the temple walls." Divaka pulled his coat straight. "Ready?"

"Yup." Seem left her scarves hanging on the hook, flanked by countless others. The _kuan_ ones filtered out, blinking against the sun. Slip pushed past Divaka and led the way. Divaka muttered something dark. Seem missed it. She shielded her eyes with a gloved hand.

They wound around, following a stony path. The walls radiated out from the temple to form enclosed sections separated by gates. As they passed each section, Seem watched the people working. An occasional piece of wedding ribbon fluttered beneath the sand, a forgotten memento from the night before. Older _kuan_ sat in circles in the practice plot, where Seem had first attempted _Binnastina_. Through another gate, others dragged buckets of water from the well to the limp garden. The next walled-in partition protected rows of wells and odd wooden machinery.

"What are they doing?" Seem pointed to a pair of _kuan_ threes pushing a huge plank, impaled through a stone pillar, around in a circle.

"Grinding grain. They're moving a big rock in the mill between them. It crushes the seeds."

One of the _kuan_ grimaced as the wind blew.

"That's why the bread is sandy, huh?"

"Yup. If you eat it long enough, your teeth get flat. Bread's the only thing keeping Meenoch from having fangs." Divaka ushered her through the next gate. "Here's the section we want. The altar."

Forbrior stood next to the altar, nodding at the young _kuan_ as they sat. A few lumps of bread and a pitcher waited beside him. The altar was a smooth, black stone set between two towering obelisks. Oracle motifs and Precursor script were carved down the angled sides. At the top of each was a relief of Mar, looking out over the desert. A bird-nosed Oracle monolith stood behind it, its gilded script faded.

"Good morning, _kuan,_" said Forbrior. The monks bowed, removed their coats, and sat cross-legged on them. "Again we learn to complete _Shaktna Nai_, Greeting the Dawn. This ceremony is done every morning. Among other achievements, you must show mastery of _Shakta Nai_ to move on to _kuan_ two." They all nodded. "Ceremony is a combination of two parts, equally important, prayer and ritual. Prayer first. Remove your goggles. I will begin. You follow with the next line." He raised his arms. "We face the South-"

"-and Nai, the sun, rises to the left," intoned the _kuan._

Seem looked around. _Uh oh. I don't know any of the words._

"This morning is blessed by the Precursors-"

"-and to give thanks, we greet the Dawn."

Seem fidgeted and tried to memorize the lines. Forbrior repeated the long verse four times. Divaka sat back, hands digging into the sand. He spoke the words easily and watched the cloudless sky.

"You all still need practice," said Forbrior. Divaka rolled his eyes at Seem. "We learn it in our Contemporary tongue first, then in Middle Precursor. The meaning does not change, but the rhythm and rhyme are true in the language of our gods. Remember, you must memorize this prayer twice. Slip, lead the second verse."

Slip squinted up, remembering the words. "Calling out to the sky, we honor our life giver-"

"-and unto her pour the libations of earthly strength." Only a few spoke, all but one looking around in doubt.

"_Kuan_! I want to hear your voices. Speak louder; we are _honoring_ our Nai, not muttering!" Forbrior turned. "As you are the only I could hear, continue, Divaka."

Divaka sat up straight. "The water we offer is cold and pure, it quiets the burning of the light-"

None of the _kuan_ continued. Toops drew circles in the sand. The others similarly avoided Forbrior's eyes. Seem bit her lower lip.

"-and splits her force into colors that dance across the sand," finished Divaka. He glanced at Slip, who shot him a nasty look.

"Very good, _kuan_ Divaka. Your mind is quick to pick up words. All stand." Forbrior motioned. Seem jumped to her feet. "Start again, Slip. Second verse."

The _kuan_ chanted for an hour under the sun. Seem drilled the words into her brain, hoping that it would be easier to memorize the second time around. Divaka stood with his hands behind his back, rocking slightly. He looked everywhere but at the altar.

"Third verse, twenty-seventh line. Seem," said Forbrior.

Seem squeaked. She closed her eyes and spoke in a very quiet voice. "And unto the, um, tired man comes your, uh, everlasting warmth. The, uh, uh, umm," _c'mon! Remember! We just went over this one!_

"Desert rocks," hissed Divaka.

"Desert rocks yearn for the dawn, um, at the sight of the, uh, midnight stars."

"Good," said Forbrior. Seem beamed. "Louder next time. Dim, continue."

Once the fourth and final verse had been repeated, Forbrior motioned for them to sit. Seem plopped down, wiping her forehead. No breezes stirred under the hot sun. The altar shimmered in the rising heat waves.

"A practiced _kuan_ can complete the _Shaktna Nai_ in less than half an hour," said Forbrior. "Along with the prayer is the ritual. Each verse is accompanied by specific motions you must carry out. The first verse focuses on the location and importance of the rising sun. Therefore, you present in which direction?"

"Southeast," said Slip.

"Correct. The second verse focuses on what? Seem?"

"Uh… water?"

"Correct. It is then that you do the water ritual." He pointed at the pitcher. "Toops, the third verse is about what?"

"Bread."

"Correct. You then break the bread and put it around the altar. And Divaka, the fourth verse concerns what?"

Divaka looked up. "Praying for the sun's successful trek across the sky. At the very end, you thank her for rising and repeat the first verse."

"Good." Forbrior pointed to the altar. "We will now concentrate on ritual. This black stone has a slight depression in the back, where you pour the water. This is called a basin. The pitcher is crafted with a special spout. Do not be fooled by its simplicity…"

Forbrior went through each painstaking detail of the rituals. From the correct stride to the altar to the most honorable method of breaking bread, he demonstrated the exact position of the hands, feet, and face. Seem sat up, eagerly taking it all in. _I don't really understand why it's so important, but it must be. I want to do this perfectly by next month!_ She glanced over at Divaka. He was whispering _Binnastina_ spells into the sand, spelling out things she didn't know.

Seem nudged his foot. "Pay attention," she hissed.

"It's the words I'm interested in, not the dancing." He leaned further away from her and trailed his fingers through the sand.

Seem shrugged. Forbrior went through the ritual again. And again. Seem wiped her forehead, dismayed to see whiteface on the back of her hand. _I wonder if the Dawn would mind if I took a sip of her water._

At last Forbrior brought his hands together and did a final bow. "Learning minds absorb prayer through repetition best, but you must practice as well. Divaka, pour the libations."

Divaka jumped up and bowed. "Easy." He took the pitcher by the handle and tipped it over the black stone. Water spilled out, dripped down the altar, and flowed through the faded Precursor script in the right obelisk. The _kuan_ ones snickered. Divaka's jaw dropped. "Wha-!" He tossed the pitcher aside and hastily mopped the water with his robe sleeves.

"I see, _kuan_ Divaka, that you were not paying attention." Forbrior stooped and picked up the pitcher. "You have demonstrated again and again a capacity for prayer, but not ritual. Do not let this be your undoing. Geumn, approach the altar and show Divaka what he has done wrong."

Divaka's face went sour and he crossed his arms. Geumn explained the double slits in the spout. "The first is wider, but curved. If you don't know what you're doing, the water will spill everywhere. You have to hold it like _this,_" he said, resting the pitcher in his fingertips. Slip and the other _kuan_ nodded emphatically.

Each _kuan_ went through the ritual. Seem watched them all closely, willing herself not to repeat any of their mistakes. Seem was called on last, for which she was grateful. She did very well through the first verse, stuttered through the second and third, and managed the fourth decently.

"Good work for a first try," said Forbrior. She lowered her head and scurried over to Divaka, who nodded. "I am confidant that you will all master this ceremony. As we did before the wedding, we will meet here tomorrow night to practice _Shaktna Luum'so_, Greeting the Stars. The following day we will meet in the morning, and so forth, alternating until you are ready for the next task." He glanced up at the sky. "I do believe lunch will be served soon. You are all allowed the opportunity to remain here and practice until then. I must go water my old bones."

The _kuan_ bowed and he left. Seem raised her arms to the water ritual position. "Let's practice," she said. Divaka did not answer. She glanced behind her.

Slip and Divaka stood face to face at the altar. Divaka's right hand hovered over the sand, Slip's the shallow water basin.

"Desecrating the pillars again, Divaka." Slip grinned. "Any more of that and the Precursors will wipe you from the desert."

"I know you're slow," said Divaka. "But how does one _actually_ get the first lines of the second verse wrong? And you think _I'm_ going to be the one killed by the Precursors? If you get any stupider, I'll sit back and laugh while you damn yourself."

"I'll wash your rank right off your face," sneered Slip. "We all know who comes from stock fit for Spargus, don't we, boys?" The other _kuan_ smirked. Seem ran over and stood next to her friend. "And look, now he's got a little girl to hide behind."

Divaka snarled. "I hide behind no one." He raised his hand. "_Binnastina_!" The desert floor rippled.

Slip copied the motion. "_Tsabinna_!" The altar water bubbled.

Each _kuan_ took a step to the side. A spike of sand shot up in Slip's face. He coughed and fell back. The water under his fingers lurched over the side of the altar and followed him to the ground.

Divaka laughed. "_Tsabinna_ is too complex for you, you fool."

Slip sputtered, wiping his face. "Sand doxy!" Toops pulled him up. Divaka snorted.

"Fancy spells aside," said Lucky Dim, rolling up his robe sleeves. "Let's see you fight flesh, huh?"

"No!" Seem took Divaka's hand. "You're supposed to honor the Precursors. No more fighting. I'm leaving." She turned to go. Divaka tried to shake his hand free. "You're coming with me! C'mon." Seem pulled as hard as she could.

"Run away, run away!" The _kuan_ ones chanted and shouted words in other languages.

"Seem, let go!" Divaka grabbed her wrist. "You don't know the things they're saying! It's insulting!"

"Then close your ears!" Divaka blinked at her. "I'm thirsty. Let's get lunch." Seem dragged him to the temple. "We can think of ways to get revenge, okay? We'll play tricks on them. Me and my sister played tricks all the time."

Divaka muttered. He pulled his hand back. "Fine. You better think of a good trick."

Seem smiled. They hung up their sandgear and headed for the great hall.

"Do we ever have anything but bread?" Seem glanced at her assorted slices. "They're different colors, but not different flavors." She poked a seeded roll.

"Sometimes they're flavored with _more_ sand," said Divaka. Seem laughed. "There's cactus jelly over there, if you want that."

Seem smeared the green goo on her bread and sat next to him. "What's our next lesson?"

"My favorite," said Divaka. "Language studies with Kastahn. I'm ahead of everyone by a year or two. And the first foreign language I learned was the Most Ancient Precursor Tongue, _Ankrennai_, which is the only one the _kuan sumna_ can speak. I'm his translator." He threw his shoulders back. "You're lucky you were assigned to me, you know."

"Yeah, yeah." Seem blessed her bread. "What's a sand doxy?"

Divaka's face darkened. "Don't say that. It's not a word befitting a _kuan._"

"Okay. What is it?"

Divaka sighed. "Someone who sacrifices everything sacred, body included, to gain power over the sand."

"Oh." Seem pushed the cactus jelly around. "I don't understand."

"Good." Divaka was silent for a moment, then launched into a detailed explanation of a very rare and ancient offshoot of Ancient Precursor. "Hyoni is only found on old sculptures. The characters are similar to Ankrennai, but the grammar is backwards…"

Seem nodded and ate her bread, drifting off. _This cactus jelly isn't sweet enough. I wonder what kind they use. At home, we had the good ones- the short, fat ones. If you boil them for too long, they turn gluey. I wonder how long Divaka can talk to himself without anyone nodding and saying, "yup, yup."_

"-curls around like the symbol 'D,' but it doesn't fit in with the words that they know, based on the contemporary sentence structure! Isn't that odd?"

"Yup, yup."

"After I finish the _Nisstina Kurlu_ I'm going out to the deserts and finding the greatest linguistic treasure of all!" Divaka's eyes shone. "I've read a few things that hinted at a-"

_Hee hee. His cap is slipping off._ Seem pointed to her head.

"-ost statue has the missing scrolls, the- huh?" Divaka tugged his cap back over his hair. "Thanks. Did you know there are supposedly scrolls written by Mar's companion-"

_But, of course, if you don't boil the cactus jelly long enough, it's runny and clear. That stuff stains your hands bright red._ She glanced up. "Hey!"

"-controversial, which is why they were hidden in the first place. What?" Divaka took the break in his speech to cram more bread in his mouth.

"I thought of our first trick." Seem grinned. She leaned and whispered it into his ear. He smiled, glancing over at the table where Slip sat.

"We'll need to sneak out," said Divaka. "I like it." He patted her arm. A line of _kuan_ threes and fours filed into the hall. "Time for us to go."

"Back outside?" Seem stood, brushing crumbs off her lap.

"No. Kastahn's lessons are usually inside. C'mon, we're going to the third floor." Divaka marched through the vaulted halls, pointing out silent Oracle idols and empty dark eco wall spigots.

"They're kind of creepy," said Seem, edging away from a stern-looking Oracle. A _kuan_ three placed a woven basket next to it and bowed.

"They're not active," said Divaka. "Only really powerful _kuan_ can get them to speak, if anyone can. And only Mar knows how to hear their secrets."

"I wonder which language they speak in." Seem followed him down another hall. She slowed as they approached a circle carved into the floor. A humming, ringing tone emanated from it. The stone shimmered. Seem stared at it. _What… is it moving?_

"Hey, let's go," Divaka took her hand. "C'mon."

"The floor." She pointed. The circle rippled. Seem blinked. "Didn't you see that?"

"See what? We have to go."

The humming got louder as they neared. A familiar smell filled the air. Seem shivered a little. She held her breath as they walked over it. For a split second, she felt something beneath the circle, swirling and oozing, glittering a thousand shades of purple. The liquid fascinated her; she stood still. Then, its sheer raw power radiated out, curling around her limbs. She gasped. Invisible wisps danced across her face. It grew stronger, thickening in the frigid air.

"Divaka!" She jumped off the circle and latched onto his arm.

"Huh? What's wrong with you?" He looked at her, eyebrows knit together.

The ringing got fainter as they walked on. "What was that thing?"

"Thing?" He glanced back. "Oh. That's a dark eco vent. Don't worry, it doesn't work."

"Didn't you hear it? It was making noise. And it was cold." Seem rubbed her cheek against his forearm.

"No, it wasn't. It only works when the Oracles awaken. And they're not awake right now, trust me." Divaka pulled his arm away from her. "Here's the room."

Seem peeked down the hall again. From a distance, she could see a matching circle engraved on the ceiling. _I wonder what happens if you're standing there when the vent does work._ She shuddered and followed Divaka.

"Welcome, _kuan,_" Kastahn smiled. Seem bowed and copied Divaka; they each got a red pillow from the corner and sat down. The room was big enough to comfortably seat thirty. Three walls were adorned with banners and charts. The fourth had several large, black slates leaning against it. An ornate, golden chair stood nearby, a pile of flat sandstone sticks on the cushion. Racks of scrolls were arranged in rows at the back, each row leading to the same door.

"That's an entrance to the library," said Divaka quietly. He pointed to the door. "It's underground, to keep the oldest scrolls cool. I'm the only _kuan_ one allowed down there."

Kastahn cleared his throat. Seem looked up. "Can you read?" he asked.

"No. My parents didn't have enough money to send me," said Seem. The _skriba_ nodded. "Is that bad?" she whispered.

"No, not at all." Kastahn nodded to the _kuan_ ones entering the room. "Very few can read when they come to the temple." The others sat in a semi-circle. Divaka and Slip exchanged murderous looks. "But some were born lucky." Kastahn smiled at Divaka and walked to the front of the room.

Seem turned. "You could read when you were born?!"

Divaka laughed. "No, no. My mom was a teacher. I knew Contemporary." He paused. "And certain slangs, before I got to the temple."

"Oh." Seem poked her pillow. "My mom is a farmer. But she does have her full citizenship." She smiled. "Only one gun, but full citizen. Same for my dad. What about your dad?" Divaka made a face. He glanced at Slip.

"_Do_ tell," said Slip. "It's my favorite story."

Divaka snarled. "My-"

"Good afternoon, _kuan._" Kastahn clapped his hands for their attention. Seem leaned forward. "We only had one lesson before the wedding, so I'm afraid I must go through the introductory speech again." He smiled, waiting for the inevitable groans. "As you are surely aware, this year and the next you will learn the basics in the five mother tongues. They are not all ancient, and they are not necessarily the languages from which the dialects sprang, but they are those most commonly used in the scrolls and texts. Each of you must be proficient in the mother tongues before you ascend to _kuan_ four. After we learn the Contemporary alphabet, we study the remaining mother tongues concurrently. Does everyone understand?" Seem raised her hands. "Yes?"

"What does 'concurrently' mean?"

Divaka groaned and looked away.

_Uh oh. I asked something stupid._

Kastahn chuckled. "It means you will learn all of them at the same time." Seem's eyes widened. "For each word you know now, there are four other versions of it you must recognize. That is how it is done." He held up his hand. "One of the mother tongues is the language you all know, Contemporary. We are speaking it now. Who can name the other four?" Divaka raised his hands, palms up. "The _kuan sumna_'s translator knows. Does anyone else?"

_Ooo! I know one!_ Seem waved her hands. "The ancient Precursor found in southern Sickle!"

"Yes," said Kastahn, amused. "What is its name?'

"Uh… I don't know." She shrank back in her pillow.

The _kuan_ ones looked at each other. Slip raised his hands. "_Skriba_, there is Middle Precursor, the language of the Temple. There is Jai'nai..." he paused. "That is all I remember." He lowered his eyes.

Forbroir nodded. "_Kuan_ Divaka?"

"Mubaksu and Sasoosh," said Divaka, smug.

"Right." Kastahn pulled the chair forward and sat. He put the sandstone sticks on the floor. "The first step is to understand the language you already know. What is the unit of linguistic comprehension?"

"A word," said Divaka.

"Correct." Kastahn pointed. "Toops, what is the power of a word?"

"Uhh…" the _kuan_ looked around the room at the tapestries. "To… make people… do what you want them to?"

"Hmm, interestingly put." Kastahn crossed his legs and smoothed his robe. "A word, a single word, can change the world. It can make you see something differently, or not at all. It can help you grow, or kill you. Who knows an example of a word that changed the world?"

Divaka wiggled his ears at Seem. "_Kuan_."

Kastahn nodded. He turned and wrote on the black slate with a sandstone stick. "For those of you who have yet to learn letters, this is the word '_kuan.'_ You are all _kuan._ You all understand '_kuan'_ in this way- a _kuan_ is a holy man." The young monks nodded. Kastahn turned again and wrote another word next to it.

Seem looked at the two words carefully. _They're almost the same. The first letter is different._

"This is the word '_quan.'_ See the difference in the way it is written?" As he spoke, he pointed to the words. "_Kuan_ comes from _quan_, one of the most ancient words we know. '_Hora Quan_' has long been translated as 'The Fallen Ones.' But now, students, you will learn the true meaning of the word, for it is our duty to know the true meaning of all things, and all things start with a name. And all names… are words." Kastahn scratched his chest. "Quan is the most ancient and sacred way to say 'monk' or 'holy man.' The Hora Quan are The Fallen _Holy_ Ones. Yes, my students. The Hora Quan were once Precursors."

The _kuan_ ones gasped. Seem's eyes widened. Divaka nodded at her stunned face. _The Hora Quan were Precursors? But… they're evil! They destroy cities and kill people! Mar hunted them!_ She remembered what Kastahn had told her in confidence that morning. _He said that Precursors come in many forms. We must keep each form close, and worship all as holy. But…_

Seem raised her hands. "If the Hora Quan are Precursors, should we worship them?"

"Aha! See! Knowing the meaning of one word has changed the way you see the world." Kastahn waved to all the young monks. "Suddenly, everything you thought you knew about Metal Heads has changed."

"Yeah," said Geumn. "How can Metal Heads be Precursors?"

"Did the Precursors have skull gems?" asked Toops.

Slip crossed his arms. "How come Metal Heads don't look like the Oracles?"

Kastahn chuckled. "You will learn, soon enough, not to trust the way something looks." He shrugged. "If I were to put on leathers or tans or what have you." The _kuan_ giggled. "And walk down the streets of Spargus, what citizen would believe my ranting? No one would even _think_ I could be a _kuan skriba_."

"Does _skriba_ mean crocodog, or something?" asked Lucky Dim. Seem laughed. Even Divaka cracked a smile.

"No, my young friend. _Skriba_ is as straightforward as one could expect. It means, simply, a _kuan_ who has reached a deep understanding of the Precursors." He cleared his throat. "Perhaps, someday, one of you will be a _skriba._" Divaka nudged Seem and pointed to himself. "We do not worship the Hora Quan," continued Kastahn. "They are no longer Precursors. When they abandoned the holy duties of their brethren, they fell. The Precursors give. They give life and they give hardship. The Precursors take, too. They take lives to balance the world, but they also take away pain. In your darkest hours, you can pray and be comforted. Hora Quan breathe solely to bring destruction and horror. One may study them to learn their weaknesses, but they ought never to be worshipped."

The _kuan_ ones nodded.

"For hundreds of years, prophets have written about the Precursors' plans for the world. The most important and lauded of these is Mar. He and his companions wrote countless scrolls and texts. They have been translated and passed down more times than I care to think of. As the city states of this quadrant fought and conquered, the texts were lost, found, and retranslated. It is for these reasons that you must be able to understand holy words in the five mother tongues." Kastahn stood and drew three horizontal lines on the slate. "The history of language is broken down into three eons; Ancient, Middle, and Contemporary. Words and languages recount the schism between the Precursors and the Hora Quan. In ancient times, the Precursors spoke Ankrennai." He drew a line at the bottom of the board, then wrote a long word next it. "This is Most Ancient Precursor. When the Hora Quan fell, the language split." He drew another line coming off the first. "This is the ancient language of the Hora Quan. It is called Kug'dar. Notice how I have the ancient languages at the bottom. Time is represented as going up, you see."

Divaka leaned back. Seem glanced at him. _I bet he knows all of this already. Darn. I wish my mom had been a teacher! Oh well. If I get stuck, I'll bug him for help._

"There are at least seven variants of Ankrennai, and six of Kug'dar." He looked over the _kuans'_ horrified faces. "Now, now, you won't need to know them all. But you do need to understand the order of things and where the five mother tongues fit in. Lets start with the variants of Ankrennai. When you draw branches coming off the main line, this is a language tree, you see, you designate a region of the slate for the land mass the language is associated with. For example, Dhwan, the ancient tongue of Northern Sickle, is only found on firecrackers. Amllennai was found in the region of ancient Haven. Jai'nai, see how it branches off, here? Jai'nai was spoken in ancient Perpetua and the Icelands, where our new king came from…"

Kastahn filled the slate with a great, branching language tree. Seem goggled at all the script. _Holy unknown mother of Mar. How can anyone keep all this in one head? I hope I'll be able to learn the five mother tongues. I already know the numbers! But look at the script. Can you write "Spargus" in another language, or is it always "Spargus"?_

"And the last rare ancient language, M'neesh Mah. I don't know if even our resident expert has heard this one. Divaka?"

The boy looked at the ceiling. "I think… it's the rare, holy language of tribes living outside of Sicklian Underworld entrances."

"Why, quite right! Well done. Pair up, everyone. You will share the scrolls in racks one through three today. Practice your Contemporary symbols. By the end of this week, you must know the alphabet and be able to sound out simple words."

Seem skipped over to the racks. The wooden scroll ends jutting from long cubbyholes all looked the same to her. "Which?"

Divaka pulled a thick scroll down. "This one, here. The scrolls are usually wrapped in covers. They're like bags; they keep the paper safe. See? It says _Desert Night I_. That symbol means one. There are four total, I think. Hold it like this." He put it in her cradled arms. "I'll take these two."

Divaka showed Seem how to unroll the scroll properly. "These are new, so they won't rip. But if you ever use an old one, you have to be extra careful. You also wouldn't unroll it on the floor."

Seem smoothed out the scroll. Lines of squiggles and circles ran down, each as foreign as the last. "Oh, Mar help me."

Divaka laughed. "Here's a practice scroll. It's blank." He pulled a metal head scale from his robe pocket. "This is a pen. It's been rolled up very tightly. You pour ink in one end. Hold it with your fingers here." He positioned it in her small hands. "Feel that? You can squeeze the end. That's so you can control how much ink you want to write with. The first line of _Desert Night I_ is used in this lesson because it has the whole alphabet in it. Copy it on the blank scroll."

"What does it say? What is it about?"

Divaka traced the script as he spoke. "_'The following words are true, and they are my own. I am Mar. The cities I've built, defended, and loved are my living wills…_ Actually, as exciting as that sounds, the _Desert Night_ scrolls are ridiculously boring. They're all about economics and how Spargus was founded and how you should run a society and government."

"Oh." Seem fumbled with the pen. It leaked black ink everywhere. Divaka occasionally took a break from his scroll to give her tips. Kastahn wandered the room, singing the alphabet with students individually.

"Don't hold it like that!" Divaka took the pen. "Look, you cracked it! No, don't get sad. Here, I have another one. Be more careful. Hold it like I showed you."

"I forgot how!" Seem waited impatiently as Divaka adjusted her fingers. "Ow!"

"_There._ Now don't move them until you're finished with the line. And try to make the spaces between the letters more even."

"Hmmph. I like ceremony lesson better than this." She leaned over the scroll and studied the characters. "Let's see… circly thingy, line, line, curvy line, circle, circle, curvy line thingy…"

Divaka rolled his eyes. Kastahn tapped Seem's shoulder. "Worry not, little one. It gets easier with practice. You can, of course, rely on your friend to help you." His eyes glittered.

"Yep," sighed Divaka. "I don't remember ever struggling with reading and writing. Hopefully all you'll need is time."

Seem smiled. She scratched her face, leaving a black smudge. "Curvy line, curvy line, squiggle, circle, circly thingy, circle…"

* * *

**Fun fact: this site doesn't support the Precursor font. Not that I expected it to.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	7. Orangeface

The hall was bustling; all the _kuan_ ate together at night. Three tables of bread and four vats of water had been set out. The lines were long, the conversations were loud, and everyone was glad the brutal pre-wedding chores had ceased.

Seem shook her hands and wiggled her fingers. "Writing is crampy," she said. They had finally reached the first table. Most of the plates were bare. Darting between the elbows of older _kuan_, Divaka snatched the crumbly remains. Seem broke open a roll, eyeing it suspiciously.

"You'll get used to it." Divaka patted his pockets. "Are you going to eat that? I can fit one more." Seem handed him half her roll. "You didn't bite this, did you?"

"Mmmnope. Hey, watch it." She pushed back at her jostling neighbors. "How come nobody notices that you come in really skinny and leave really fat?" Seem poked Divaka's side. "Is this you, or bread?"

"Me! Stop!" Divaka bunched his robes up. "It's not that noticeable. Plus, they don't really care about anyone shorter than them. We're only _kuan_ ones, you know." He glanced around the room and another roll disappeared beneath his hands.

Seem dipped her dented cup into a vat. The metal chilled her fingers. "Where should we sit?"

"No." He nodded at the door. "We're going."

Seem followed Divaka. _I wonder if it's okay that I take this cup with me._ "Are we eating in our room?"

"Nah. We have to get our prank started." He glanced around one more time and pushed the door open. "Go!"

Seem skipped out, one hand over her cup to prevent spillage. "To the coatroom?"

"Yes." Divaka crammed bread into his mouth. "The best time to sneak out is while everyone is eating and before the metal heads hunt."

Seem nodded. "Um. Are we going to… run into any?"

Divaka shrugged. "Have you ever been in the desert at night?"

"Not really. My mom always had us behind the walls before the sun set." Seem sipped her water. "Sometimes you could still hear them fighting."

The hallways were silent and dark. Divaka crept around the corners, holding his fingers out like a gun. Seem giggled, avoiding the eyes of the shadowy Oracle motifs. "Here we are." The door to the coatroom slid open. Divaka pulled his gear from the hooks. "Make sure you wear all the scarves. Desert nights are very cold."

Seem nodded and set her cup down. She tugged the gritty coat over her robes, strapping each loop into place. "My goggles are really dirty," she said. "The whiteface cements the sand on. Dang it." She scratched at the corners.

"I think you know a better way," said Divaka. "A _kuan_ way."

"Oh. Yeah!" Seem held the goggles out. "_Binnastina_!" The sand fell to her feet in clumps. "Hey, it worked!"

"You still need to practice more. _Binnastina_!" Divaka's coat shook once and was clean. He tugged the fasteners. "See those things in the corner? Those are gem torches."

Seem held up a tear-shaped glass lantern by its handle. The inside was striped with faint scorch marks. Black soot glittered along the bottom. She stuck her nose in and coughed. "Smells like hot metal. Isn't this kind of old?"

"_Traditional_," corrected Divaka. "There are skull gems in the basket over there. Put one in."

The top of the tear had a hole wide enough for a skull gem. Seem held the lantern at arm's length and dropped one in. It hit the soot and sparked. "It's not very bright," she said. "Just embers."

"Needs new silt. Should be in the bucket next to the gems. Only put in a little." Divaka wrapped some extra scarves around his waist. "Get me one, too."

Seem loaded the lanterns and walked carefully across the room. Like the gem bonfire at the wedding, the flames were soundless but very warm. She thought of the Icelanders in the arena. "Does it light up my eyes?" She held one beneath her face.

"Uh… I guess so." Divaka gave her a quizzical look. "Is that one mine? Okay. Let's go."

Seem shivered as they stepped outside. Her breath hovered in the air, a phenomenon she rarely saw. She took several short breaths and tried to connect the clouds of mist. "Hee." Divaka rolled his eyes. Here, the gem torches were brighter. The light splintered over the Precursor insignias engraved on their coat fasteners, as if remembering an old feud.

"Come on."

She followed Divaka through the outer arches of the main entrance and down a path. They searched the endless sky. Seem recognized a few star pictures- there was The Peacemaker, Mar's Belt, and her favorite, The Little Leaper. She liked how the tail of The Little Leaper pointed towards The Big Leaper, as if running away. That's how she thought of it, anyway; everyone knew a mother had to chase her children down the streets of Spargus properly before they would take a bath.

"No signs of a storm," she said. The hand holding the lantern was blissfully warm. She stuck the other in her coat pocket.

"Yup." He made a point to critically inspect the west. "Always a good thing to double check over there. That's where most surprise storms come from."

She smelled the waterfall before they arrived at the bridge. Night-blooming flowers always grew around the oases. Divaka paused, holding his light up. "See that?" The water roared and smashed rainbows into the darkness below.

"Yeah." Seem leaned forward. The air was different here, heavier in her lungs. _I wonder if air can be wet like sand._

"Don't fall down there."

"Where does it go?"

Divaka started across the bridge. "I don't know. The ocean, probably."

Seem gripped the railing, watching the old rope flake off as she moved her hand. The fibers floated beyond her circle of light. "So, um." Her voice had a higher pitch than usual. "Where are we going?"

"Across the islands to the desert. Only far enough to find the cacti." Divaka turned. "If you see any metal heads, don't scream. Just follow me."

"Okay," she squeaked. "Won't the metal heads smell our gems?"

"No. I don't think so." He held his light up higher. "Keep the fire away from the bridge. If it burns, we can't get back. I'm pretty sure Meenoch would like that. But we don't want him to be happy, do we?"

"Nope!"

Seem stared at the wooden planks as they made their way down. They were pitted and loose. She didn't remember them being this shaky when she walked to the Temple. _Um. Mar, oh Founder of Cities and Slayer of the Dammed... I know you're really busy watching the universe, but could you please make sure we don't fall through? ._ A few times she stepped on Divaka's trailing robe.

"Stop that!"

"Sorry!" And, just to bug him, she put her hand on his shoulder. "There. Now I can't."

To pass the time, she counted how many bridges they crossed. There were eight connecting the temple to the main desert by small islands. Divaka showed her where they stashed the bridges so that undesirables couldn't pass through. Someone, someone very brave, thought Seem, had dug divots into the cliffsides of the islands. "We roll up the rope and shove them in there. You can't see them from any angle unless you know where to stand. Or if you're in the water. But they're no help there." He grinned. "Finally, the last island." Divaka yanked his coat open a bit and peered around. "What's the first lesson of sneaking around the desert at night?"

"Uh… avoid metal heads?"

"Exactly. And how do you do that?"

Seem spun slowly, taking in the dunes, the sporadic plant life, and towering, distant rock mountains. The desert, outside her tiny circle of green-tinted, shuffling feet, was rendered in shades of silver and gray. Behind her, water lapped softly.

"Erm. You hide."

"Right. Sort of." Divaka squinted and set off. "You can't hide the whole time, or you won't get anything done. The important thing is to always make sure you have a place to hide, if you have to." He pointed. "See? Here's a good place. It has our two goals; cacti and a big wall of rock. We can pick through here, and shelter isn't far."

"Okay. How do you know so much about sneaking around the desert?"

"My family and I lived around oases for a while," said Divaka carefully.

That was simple enough. Seem flopped down and eyed the cacti. "This is the kind we want," she said, pushing fleshy pods aside. "They're short and fat. And not too prickly." She set her lantern to the side and yanked the cactus. "Their roots are short, so they're easy to pull. Do we have a knife?"

Divaka searched his pockets. "Bread, bread, bread, really old bread. Here." He handed it over, a dull butter knife. It said **Do not remove from kitchen** on the side. He had a feeling that, even though Seem couldn't read it, she could guess what it meant.

"Hold the cactus from the bottom." Seem did so, over her knee. "And cut upwards. These spines aren't very sharp, but we can't use them." Slice, slice; they chimed together as they landed in a neat pile. "Don't break the skin."

Divaka took the knife back and tried it. The smell of oozing sap stung their noses. "This one didn't grow right," he said, tossing it aside. He tried again. "Dang! This must be a bad patch. Let's find another one."

"No, it's fine. You're just doing it wrong."

Divaka glared at her. "I'm probably better at finding them than you. I'll hand them to you and you cut them."

Seem bit down on her smile. _I'm better than youuuu are._ "Whatever's the fastest way," she said. The old adage hadn't failed a true Spargus citizen yet.

As they worked, Seem told Divaka about her parents' cactus farm. "We had a really neat kind that you had to cover up at night," she said, burying the cut spines. "The flowers tasted real good. And the rockbrush was solid enough to have pebble fights. You hide underneath and pelt the enemy." She smiled.

Divaka grunted. The cactus they needed was harder to find than he first thought. There was another kind that looked just like it. He didn't notice the difference until the spines cut through his sandgloves. "Ow!" He pulled the glove off and stuck his finger in his mouth. "Stupid wrong cactus," he muttered.

Seem giggled. "How come you know all the special languages but nothin' about cacti? They're everywhere. Even men wastelanders know _something_."

Divaka shot her an unamused look. "There aren't any cacti in Haven."

"Really!"

"It's too wet. And not hot enough."

"So you _are_ from Haven! What's it like there? There's water instead of streets, right?"

"Uh, I guess so. In part of it." Divaka shifted, frowning. "You can't drink that water."

"Oh," said Seem. "Well, it'll grow crops, then. Do they have leapers? What's their queen like?"

"The _king_ is a decent guy, but things are starting to get sort of… weird. And they don't have leapers. And nothing can grow in that water."

"That is weird." Seem wiped the blade on the back of her glove. "Why'd you leave? Everyone in Haven is rich!"

Divaka snorted. "You don't know very much," he said. "You're rich if you have eco there, not water."

"Eco?" Seem rolled that thought around her head. Sure, eco was useful for a few things. Like making ammo or letting the monks deal with. But water was where life was. "So… you didn't have eco?" She rolled the cactus around in one hand, looking for stray spines.

Divaka sighed. "We were kicked out for stealing eco. _They_ said we stole eco."

"Did you?" Seem glanced at his pockets.

"I didn't. What, you think I can hold it in my hands? My mom didn't- she won't do anything she doesn't have to. They said my dad did, but I don't see how. Eco is strictly regulated at construction sites." Divaka put his glove back on and glared at the cactus patch.

"Oh." Seem thought they had got off rather easy: in Spargus, if you stole water, you went to the arena. And after that, if they still weren't convinced, you went to the desert. If you were exiled from Haven and managed to find Spargus, you had a chance. But if you were sent out of Spargus, there was nowhere left to go. "It's a good thing your dad made citizenship, then." She smiled.

Divaka did not. Seem stopped slicing.

After a pause, echoing with a distant hum, Divaka sat up straighter. "My father died in the arena."

"Oh." Seem looked away, embarrassed for him. _No wonder Slip said all those things. Divaka's got failure in his family._ "Well, you really shouldn't be here, then," she said uneasily. "You should be a wastelander, training to get the honor back. They let Haven people do that. But monks don't fight in the arena."

"As soon as my mother found out people could send their kids to the temple, she did it," spat Divaka. "She didn't understand what saying that at the temple doors meant to the people here. But I'm glad. I didn't need her anymore. She taught me everything I needed to know. Probably the biggest mistake she ever made."

Seem found herself inching away from him. She couldn't help it. Everyone knew family honor was what made Spargus strong. "Um, in Haven." She looked away when Divaka noticed the space between them. "How do you know… who the real citizens are?"

"It doesn't matter," Divaka said. "It's different there. Things aren't about who's stronger than who. It's who's more tricky. Who has connections. Who can put others down far enough to step up. You don't get it."

Seem's jaw dropped.

"Well, okay, there are _some_ people who follow the rules," started Divaka.

A long, low sound echoed across the desert. They snapped their heads to the right.

"What-" Seem cut herself off at Divaka's upraised hand.

The roar came again, closer. Loose sand skittered around Seem's scarves.

"Do we have enough?" asked Divaka, nodding at the cacti.

"No," Seem scooped them together and shoved them into various pockets. "We have half what we need."

"Okay." Divaka hunched down, a look on his face Seem had never seen before. His eyes swept back and forth, as if reading instructions in the outlying dunes. "The bridges are too far," he muttered. The thundering noise came in a pattern now; thud-thud, thud-thud. "They run very fast. Shh."

Seem jumped at the next roar. It rumbled through her legs and made her stomach weak.

Divaka was already crawling over to the rocks. He motioned for her to follow. She abandoned the patch and traced his long tracks. Her elbows dug easily into the rippling sand.

"They're almost here," Divaka whispered when they had reached the formation. Seem gripped his arm. Another roar. Divaka jammed the gem torches into the sand upside-down. They sputtered and went out. He and Seem peeked around the corner.

An enormous metal head rolled down the dune, arms flailing. Eyes wide, Seem shrank back. The creature was bigger than any she had ever seen. But that wasn't all… when it moved, she _felt_ it. When it moved, a thousand glittering shades of purple followed. Inside it. She frowned. It was like the time her sister had accidentally poured clothing dye in the family water bucket. Terrified, they'd dumped it behind the house. The dye moved inside the water, but with it, too.

Yes, there it was. It flicked its tail, and the eco-y sense went with it. She shut her eyes, and felt, very faintly, that it had raised its right claw. She opened her eyes. The arm was there, in the air. _What?_ "Do you feel that?"

Divaka patted the shifting sand. "Yeah, who can't?"

"No, the metal head. It's got… eco… in it."

"Huh?"

"Eco bones. Or something. You can't feel them?"

"Shh."

The metal head dug its claws into the desert floor and twisted upright, its skull gem glowing up by the stars. It smashed the cacti into a vehicle-sized footprint. With a triumphant bellow, another appeared at the crest of the dune. The first one spat and grunted. They faced each other, tails whipping through the air.

Divaka shook her. "Breathe," he whispered.

She sucked in a breath. "Holy Mar," she whispered back. "What if they smell us?"

"Then we greet the Precursors with big, happy smiles." Divaka dug a shallow depression in the sand. "Get down, flat against the ground." Seem pushed sand aside and lay on her stomach. "Watch them. Watch how they fight."

Seem nodded, too scared to question the gruesome order. The metal heads circled, rushed headfirst, and tore at each other. The chilly smell of dark eco wafted over. Scales cracked, tiny metallic sounds almost lost in the roars. When they moved quickly, Seem caught just a sense of blurry eco. The sense wove in and out of tangibility.

_Maybe I'm a little crazy. Or it's just cuz I'm scared_. _Yeah. Scared. Eek!_

The slightly smaller metal head was hell-bent on wedging its claws beneath the larger one's skull gem. So far, it had not succeeded. The large one stamped impatiently and impaled the small one's left eye.

"I hope I never have to fight a metal head," Seem whispered.

"Huh? Of course you will. That's why we're watching."

"_What?_"

Divaka slapped a hand over her mouth. "Shh!" One of the metal heads glanced in their direction, costing it a blow to the head. "Of course you'll face one. Year nine. That's why the _kuan_ nine have green paint on their foreheads. Haven't you heard of the _Jedicht Hora Quan_?"

"No!" Seem's hands shook. She pulled her scarf around her chin.

"In order to advance to _kuan_ ten, you have to fight a metal head."

Her teeth chattered. "Are you crazy? I can't fight one of those! You mean a small one, right? There are small ones called stingers- you mean one of those, right?"

Divaka shook his head. "No. A big one. Like these." He inched down deeper in the sand. The metal heads roared, one much louder than the other. Blood, sparking with eco, rained down on them. Divaka wiped his sleeve on the rock. The drops streaked and burned the cloth. "_Jedicht_ means 'face.' You have to face a metal head. You have to fight it and win."

"What if you don't win?"

"If you're in real danger, a higher up _kuan_ will save you. But that means you never advance. You have to leave."

That made sense. _I guess he does understand honor. Maybe._ "What if you get killed?"

Divaka scoffed. "You don't get killed. There are rules in place. In the old days, the rules said that you had to kill or be killed. Now it's kill or be exiled. Slightly better, don't you think?"

Seem shivered. A new, more directed wave of eco showered down and something hissed through the air. It slammed into the sand next to Seem. She jumped and pressed herself closer to Divaka. They stared at the thing. Seem prayed it wouldn't start moving. She tried to make sense of the shape. It looked like an uprooted tree crossed with a plumbing pipe that had burst towards the top.

"It's a claw," whispered Divaka. Sizzling metal tubes poked out of the segmented wrist. Its nails dug deep into the sand. Dark eco bubbled from the frayed ends and pooled around it.

Seem squeaked. "When we fight, do we get guns?" She kicked at the sand, creating a small hill between her feet and the eco puddle.

"Nope."

The claw flexed, an occasional eco spark invigorating the severed axons. She jumped. "How are we supposed to kill them without guns?"

"Spells, prayer, wit," recited Divaka. He peered around the rock again. The smaller metal head, limping and bleeding, turned and ran back the way it came. The larger one roared and took off after it. "Okay." Divaka shut his eyes. "I… really don't know how we take one of those down with just sand spells. Remind me to start researching battle moves in year six, okay?"

"Kay," squeaked Seem.

They waited until the roars had quieted enough to stop shifting sand and picked up the lanterns. "Mine doesn't have enough silt left," said Seem, shaking hers. Or maybe her arm was shaking on its own. She wasn't really sure.

"Mine either. Maybe if we pour both into one, it'll be enough." Divaka tipped his lantern over hers. Seem watched the dark eco pool around the severed metal head claw. "There, it's working."

"Do you think if we add some eco, it'll be brighter?"

Divaka shrugged. "I wouldn't touch it. But you, yeah, feel free."

Seem stuck her tongue out at him. "Do you think any more will come back?"

"Probably not. No use fighting in a place already slippery with eco." Divaka glanced at the former cactus patch. "Uh. Let's find another."

They gathered another few handfuls of cacti as fast as they could. "What were they fighting about?" asked Seem.

"Who knows? Maybe one's skull gem was insultingly bright, or something. Hurry up."

Seem bowed her head and scraped the cacti faster. _Now I remember. Meenoch asked, on the first day, how a woman could do the Jedicht Hora Quan. Of course a woman can do it. But can I? _Will_ I?_

"I think that's enough," said Seem. "Put those in your pockets."

Divaka did so, then heaved her off the ground. "C'mon." He didn't argue when she looped her arm around his waist. They ran back to the temple. Divaka paused once to pull out a piece of bread.

"You're eating now!"

"Danger makes me hungry." He offered her a bite. She shook her head.

Once they had slammed the door to the coatroom shut, Seem finally took a deep breath. "I really, _really_ don't want to do that ever again."

Divaka considered. "I don't know. It wasn't that bad." He hung up his gear and shook his boots, one by one.

"Not that bad?" Seem squinted at him. "I don't want to see a bad night for you, then." She set the lanterns down with the others.

"No, put them towards the back, so it takes a while for someone to figure out they've been used."

Seem inched them with her foot. "Do you think the kitchens are empty?"

"Yeah. They should be." Divaka took out another roll and chomped down. "Even if they're not, we won't be noticed." With a quick _Binnastina_, his and Seem's sandgear looked cleaner than it had been before they left.

"Take the gloves," said Seem. "We don't want to get it on us."

Divaka tucked two pairs in a pocket and led the way. The halls were darker than at dinner, only every third torch lit. Seem ventured no further than his shadow. She passed him the knife. "What do we need?" he asked.

"A sharper knife."

Divaka paused, then pushed the kitchen door with a finger. It swung open noisily; they winced. He poked his head in. "No one's here, c'mon." They darted through the doorway and locked it shut. "What else do we need?"

"A hot stove, a big pot, some water, and some salt. And a big spoon."

Divaka grinned. He loaded the bottom of a small oven with wood, cranked the handle, and stepped back as the flames crackled. "Pots are over there. Water is here. I'll get the spoon."

Seem hefted the pot into the sink and pumped. Water squeaked out eventually; her arm ached. She found that the pot was too heavy to pick up when full. "Uh. Divaka?"

"Yeah?" He brandished the spoon. "Hath thee not finished? Defend thy honor!"

_Ha. Ha._ "Help me get this outta the sink."

"Easy." Divaka strutted over.

And found he could not lift it. And neither could both of them, when working together. "Dang," said Seem. "Maybe if it's only half full." She yawned.

"Try it." Divaka shrugged. He wandered off to find the salt.

So Seem, wincing at the terrible waste, ladled half the water down the drain and pulled the pot out. "Oomph," she said, as Divaka helped her place it on the oven. They pulled up some wooden stools so they could stand over the pot.

"How much salt?" He held up a container, lid abandoned in some corner.

"Two handfuls."

Divaka tilted the container over the pot and, bracing one side against his leg, wobbled. Every grain fell in. "Oops," he said, watching it swirl and disappear.

"That's too much!"

"Eh, well." Divaka tossed the container aside. "The more salt, the better."

Seem scowled. "It might not be the right color now."

"It doesn't matter what color it turns out, just as long as it's not white."

"Hmmph." Seem chopped the cacti and handed them to Divaka. He dropped them in. "My sister and I always made sure it was bright red," said Seem. "As if you were sunburned. Cuz only an idiot gets sunburned in Spargus."

Divaka shrugged.

"Put on the gloves. I wanna stir." Seem took the spoon from him. "Until it's cloudy. Then we'll test it."

"It's not changing colors," said Divaka, leaning away from the steam.

"That's okay. It only changes when it touches skin." Seem stirred, occasionally wiping her forehead. The kitchen was a drastic change from outside. She yawned again. "How are we gonna get this in his room?"

Divaka snickered. He jumped down and rummaged in a cupboard. "See this?" He held up a small, white box.

"Yeah. That's a whiteface block."

"We'll take out half, mix the cactus stuff with it, and put it back. It dries white, right?"

Seem held the spoon up to eye level. Almost cloudy. "It dries sorta clear. It'll turn white with the paint, I guess. Can you turn down the fire?"

Divaka cranked the handle back; a few logs dropped from the bottom of the oven into a bucket of dirty water. The fire shrank. He cut the whiteface block in half. "Guess I'll keep this half," he said, pocketing it. He put the other in a bowl.

"Done!" said Seem. Divaka handed her the empty salt container. She ladled some liquid in and hopped down. "Cool," she said, blowing over the liquid. It turned clearer.

Divaka yawned and shifted his weight. "How do we test it?"

"Pull up your sleeve." Seem swiped a bit on a gloved finger and rubbed it on his upper arm.

"Hey!"

"Oh, shush. It'll take about five minutes." Seem stirred, trying hard not to think about metal heads and if they could jump islands.

"Look!" As they watched, his skin turned a bright orange.

"Aww, kangarats," said Seem. "I wanted red. You put too much salt in!"

"No, no," said Divaka, his eyes gleaming. "Orange is much better. If a _kuan_ one was wearing all orange on his face, can you just _imagine_ the trouble he'd be in?"

"Oh. Oh! Hehe!"

"And he won't notice 'til it's too late, cuz it takes a while to kick in." Divaka pulled his sleeve down and got some more whiteblocks. "Let's do a whole bunch, then we'll have some for later."

Giggling, and enacting scenes of the _kuan sumna_ finding Slip with an orange face, they melted and squared off a set of tainted blocks. Divaka nicked the corners with a knife, so they wouldn't mix up the "orangeface" with the real stuff. "I'll keep this at the bottom of the closet, under my really gross boots," he said.

"Mmmyup, that will stop anyone from searching," said Seem. "How will we make him use these?"

Divaka poured the excess cactus juice into a container and sealed it shut. "I'll sneak it into his room. I know where he leaves his whiteface."

"How?"

"Believe it or not." Divaka lugged the pot to the sink. "We used to be friends."

Seem yawned. "He's gonna be in such big trouble." She blew out a torch. "Can we go now?"

"You go, I'll finish here. And, for Mar's sake, don't make any noise in the halls."

Seem mumbled and left. In their room, she collapsed onto her pile of blankets. Then, without warning, started laughing. She buried her face in a pillow.

A few minutes later, she felt calm enough to roll over and relax.

The door creaked open; Divaka ducked inside. "He's _metal toast,_" said Divaka.

"Hehe!"

"I replaced all his boxes. There's no way he can avoid it."

"I wonder." Seem tucked the blanket around her chin. "If he'll find out it was us."

"Oh, probably. He'll suspect it. But he can't prove it." Muffled noises came from the closet. "Okay, all hidden. See ya later." He vaulted over her and crawled under the covers.

Seem stifled another giggle. But, when she finally fell asleep, she didn't dream of Slip's orange face and Divaka's laughter. Nor did she dream of towering metal heads and severed limbs. She dreamed of a place where warriors didn't live the way honor dictated; they didn't go from rise to fall, from birth to arena. They shrank down small and changed their paths, lying at every turn, sending other people the wrong way. These paths branched and split, like the language tree, until the people at the end were so different from what they were at the beginning, they shot each other in streets of water.


End file.
